


The Half-Blood Princess

by daughterofdurinanddestiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Absent Parents, Adoption, Aftermath of Torture, Attempted Murder, BAMF Lily Evans Potter, Brother-Sister Relationships, Bullying, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Curses, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Death Eaters, Diary/Journal, Double Agents, Double Life, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fred Weasley Dies, Gen, Godfather Sirius Black, Good Death Eaters, Good Severus Snape, Half-Siblings, Harry is not the main character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Infidelity, Jealous Severus Snape, Jealousy, Loss of Parent(s), Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mentor Severus Snape, Mentor/Protégé, Mentors, Minor Character Death, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Murder, Mutually Unrequited, My First Work in This Fandom, Not A Fix-It, POV Severus Snape, Parent Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Character Death, Past Infidelity, Past Torture, Poison, Poisoning, Pregnant Lily, Protective Remus Lupin, Protective Siblings, Psychological Torture, Revenge, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Single Parents, Sirius Bashing, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Torture, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Unrequited, Unrequited Love, Witch Curses, Wolfsbane Poisoning, Young Severus Snape, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 52
Words: 184,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofdurinanddestiel/pseuds/daughterofdurinanddestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley Torrance's parents died in a "home invasion" when she was three. She was adopted by a nice couple and things seemed well...until she was four and started performing magic. For ten years she remained under the radar until she concocts a potion to get revenge on a bully when she is fourteen.<br/>It is then that a Concealment Charm is lifted from her and she gets two visitors at her home: Albus Dumbledore and Rubeus Hagrid. Harley is a witch, and she is about to embark on a deadly, heart-breaking journey alongside the most famous and infamous students and staff at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry.</p><p>(Takes place starting with "Chamber Of Secrets" and through post-canon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Girl Who Was Concealed

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! Having had some writer's block on my current stories, I decided to try writing something new and this is my first fic for the Harry Potter fandom.  
> Harry is NOT the main character, though he is obviously a big part of it. This story centers around my OFC, Snape, Lily, and Fred Weasley for the most part. Every character is going to make an appearance, however, even the most minor ones.  
> I really hope you all like it, and comments and kudos are very much appreciated!

Mr. and Mrs. Torrance of Surrey were normal once, except for one little problem: they could not have children. They went to specialists in London, but it did them no good. If they wanted kids, they’d have to adopt.

They went to their local orphanage on New Year’s Eve, 1981, and were immediately attracted towards a little girl with fair skin, thick black hair, and dark eyes. She was standing up in her playpen, gazing at them with a stare that was somehow unnerving. She was by far the quietest child there.

“Hello,” said Mrs. Torrance, bending down before the girl.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft, even for a toddler.

The woman who worked at the home smiled. “This is Harley. She’s three, and quite new here. Her parents, God rest their souls, were killed in a home invasion two months ago.”

“Poor baby. May I?” Mrs. Torrance gestured towards Harley. When the woman nodded Mrs. Torrance picked her up, and the little girl immediately put her arms around the woman and laid her head on her shoulder.

It was that moment when both of the Torrances knew they were taking her home, but they had no idea how having her would change their lives forever.

Harley was a quiet child, preferring drawing and picture books over playing outdoors with the other preschoolers. She played pretend with various stuffed dolls, having tea parties in the second bedroom that her parents had turned into a playroom. She was loved, not spoilt, and had the calmest disposition a child could have. Often, she helped her mother cook in the kitchen, having an innate love of cooking and baking.

It was one day when she was four and in her playroom alone that her parents knew there was something even more different about her than just her preschool hobbies.

It was Saturday, and Mr. Torrance was home from work. He and his wife were reading in the living room, listening in to be sure their daughter was all right.

“Would you like more tea, Mrs. Pugsley?” they heard her ask one of her dolls.

Neither of them expected a response, but they heard a distinct, elderly voice reply, “Why yes, Miss Harley, thank you.”

Both adults glanced up from their respective reading materials.

“Um, hon...since when is Harley that good of a voice over actress?” Mr. Torrance asked, a strange feeling making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Before Mrs. Torrance could respond, they heard Harley ask, “And what about Mr. Pugsley? Or is he too full of cookies?”

“Nonsense! Of course I’ll have more tea!” said an older male voice.

In unison, the adults leapt from their seats and dashed towards the playroom, their steps silent on the thick carpeting. They had insisted Harley’s door remain completely open while she was in her playroom, and she always complied. (They were not prepared for the day she’d be a teenager and would not comply with that simple request.)

When they reached the threshold, they saw something that could not--should not--be possible: Harley holding court with her dolls animatedly drinking the “tea” (fruit juice) she was pouring them. Her teddy bear couple (whom she had christened Mr. and Mrs. Pugsley) were murmuring to each other, very obviously moving on their own.

Harley was unaware of her parents’ presence, as she simply carried on as though talking dolls was completely normal for her. To give them more of a shock, Harley waved her small hand and the teapot filled with juice  _ poured itself _ .

Mr. and Mrs. Torrance just stared, unable to believe their eyes. They backed away from the room, looking startled and shocked into silence. They did not speak till they were back in the sitting room.

“Was that...did I just see…?” Mr. Torrance could not form a complete sentence.

Mrs. Torrance nodded weakly.

“What...should we say something?” Mr. Torrance asked. “Hon, have you ever seen anything like this before? Has Harley done anything like this?”

Mrs. Torrance was going to give him a sarcastic response, but she then remembered when she swore she’d seen a Barbie doll fly across the playroom, and the strange voice she’d heard one day, a voice that was obviously not her daughter’s.

“Maybe,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“What do we do?” Mr. Torrance asked.

“Confront her. Immediately. This is outrageous and impossible, but it is happening. No point in pretending otherwise, right, love?”

They went into Harley’s playroom, and never had they seen such a look of shock and apprehension on a small child’s face before. They sat her down and talked to her, asking her about what she was doing. Their fear was that these dolls were like the Chuckie the Doll movies and would murder them, but it didn't explain the teapot. The reality turned out to be preferable.

Harley was gifted. She had abilities no other child had, and they could either accept her or reject her. She was their little girl, and of course they accepted her, although they were always a bit fearful of her after that. It looked as if they could handle this--handle her considerable powers--and still be a relatively normal family.

Harley grew up, and by the time she was fourteen she was very advanced in her powers. She grew up to be a beautiful but strange child. Tall, willowy, with inky black hair and eyes almost as dark, contrasting with alabaster white skin; she preferred wearing flowing, black clothes and wore little makeup aside from mascara. She read for pleasure, shirking most social conventionalities teens her age partook in. They had set up their basement as a sort of workshop for Harley, a place where she could practice her powers without interruption or detection.

They set one rule for Harley: she was never to tell anyone about her abilities, lest they think there was something wrong with her and possibly try to hurt her. She agreed easily, as she was already bullied because of the way she dressed and acted. She did not want to give the kids another reason to ridicule her.

“You know...the way you are...kids won’t understand,” her mother had said.

Harley sighed. “Oh, come now, Mother,” Harley said in her low, drawling voice. “I am a witch. You can say the word. I am not ashamed of what I am, and if you are not, you should be able to say it, too.”

Her mother had apologised. “I don’t want to call you that, because I don’t want you thinking you’re evil, like the witches in cartoons.”

“Yes, Mother, because all Disney films are quite realistic, aren’t they?” Harley smirked and went downstairs into her workshop. Aside from her telekinetic abilities, and the way she could make inanimate objects behave like living things, she was always experimenting with herbal and occasionally disturbing ingredients. She had already concocted a potion that cured the cold, flu, and pneumonia. She made a topical one that helped stop her mother’s crows feet. This night, she had a different type of potion to concoct.

Even while hiding her powers, she was bullied relentlessly by the kids at her private school. Particularly by one girl in her class, Carol Greene. Carol was cruel in the worst way, and Harley had been her favourite victim since they were children.

Harley was patient. You couldn’t brew potions and not have any patience. However, even her legendary patience had broken when Carol had spoken a statement so impossibly cruel that Harley felt her heart explode in her chest.

“You’re so weird: your parents probably gave you up as a baby because they hated you. They’re probably still alive and having a blast without you.”

It was too much. Harley knew that she was only trying to get under her skin, and after nine years of trying, she had finally succeeded. Harley was too used to being tormented, too used to falling asleep with frustrated tears hitting her pillow, and she was now going to stand up for herself the only way she knew how.

Harley had two pets, a black kitten she’d rescued the month before and a green and black garter snake. Her snake had recently shed its skin, and that was what she wanted. Taking a bit of it, she dropped it into a small pot on a hotplate and added in a strand of Carol’s hair, as well as a few other key herbal ingredients. If brewed properly, she hoped it would taste like tea The purpose of the hair was that no one but Carol would be affected by the potion if they happened to drink it.

There was only a week of school left before the summer holidays, and before summertime was always when the teasing would get worse, owing to the mania that the upcoming break from school caused in the teenage mind.

In algebra, Harley received a notice that claimed to be from her English Lit teacher, telling her to meet in her office before class began. Harley got permission to duck out early and walked towards the other end of campus to get to her teacher’s office, wondering if she’d failed a test or something worse. She’d never needed a private conference with a teacher before.

The office door was locked when she got there, so she waited for five minutes according to her watch. After that time had passed, Harley knew she’d need to go to class or she’d be late. Suddenly she heard an intense scraping sound from behind the closed door.

She tried the knob again, wondering if her teacher might not be hurt or sick. The door opened and it was like a scene from  _ Carrie _ , as a pool of green liquid fell down upon her head. It was liquified lime Jell-O. Harley shrieked from shock as Carol and two of her friends popped out from behind the teacher’s desk, laughing and taking pictures with a disposable camera.

They scampered out, avoiding the growing green puddle, giggling like madwomen. Harley’s teacher found her and took her to the girls’ locker room to change her clothes and wash her hair.

Her teacher kept asking who had done this, but Harley refused to tattle. No, she had a bigger punishment for Carol coming than anything the school board would do to her, their star pupil. If Harley tattled, Carol would get less than a slap on the wrist. She was a football star and got better grades than Harley did. Harley was just the strange Goth girl with the greasy hair and who never smiled.

Her opportunity came at lunchtime, when she saw Carol’s thermos of tea sitting next to her. Harley walked past their table, purposely bumping into it, knocking over Carol’s still-closed bottle.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Harley said, bending down to hand it back to Carol, but really switching the bottle with the one she’d brought from home. (Thankfully, Carol used a very popular travel mug, so it was easy for Harley to procure one herself.)

Carol gave a few choice insults, which Harley blissfully ignored. She simply sat back and waited, hoping that her little potion would work.

As lunch was ending, there was an ear-piercing shriek. Everyone looked to see that Carol was the one shrieking, scratching at her arms in a panic. She had broken out in greenish grey snakeskin scales.

Harley and her classmates got a good laugh as Carol was hauled off to the nurse’s office. It wasn’t until the end of the day when she was called into the headmaster’s office that she began to feel doubt about how great her plan was.

Her mother was waiting for her in the office. Apparently, Carol had told the nurse about Harley knocking her bottle down at lunch and convinced them that Harley had given her something that made her get an “allergic reaction”. Like growing snake scales was an everyday allergic occurrence in all the medical books!

“With the proof of a dozen students’ words, we have no choice but to believe you did this to Carol out of malicious intent. I am sorry, Miss Torrance, but we are forced to take action and expel you from this school. This is a prestigious institution, and we cannot be seen to deal with behaviour such as this lightly,” the headmaster said, not sounding regretful at all.

“Are you kidding me?” Harley asked incredulously. “Since I started at this godforsaken school, I have been the victim of countless pranks, taunts, and my existence has been miserable. Yet you expel me for something you can’t even prove that I did? And what will happen to Carol? Sympathy cards and not needing to take her last tests this week because of her ‘allergy’?” She was livid, an anger rising up in her that she had never felt.

The lights in the room flickered, and a commemorative glass plaque on the headmaster’s mantel shattered.

Harley leapt up, worried that he might think she’d done that on purpose. She needed to get out of there, quickly. “Fine. Come, Mother. No need to remain here any longer.” She rushed out, embarrassed, angry, and hurt.

“Harley Torrance! You stop this instant!” her mother yelled after her. “How could you have done something so deliberately cruel? How could you use your gifts to do harm?”

Harley whirled around to face her mother. “ _ Really _ ? You are going to play the disappointed mother card now? I never told you about the bullying because I did not want to be known as the girl who ran to Mummy all of the time. I have been tormented by those girls my whole life! I fight back  _ once _ , and I am a pariah. It is not fair! Do you know what I could have done to them by now? She’s lucky it was only a few scales. I could have done  _ much  _ worse.”

The drive home was tensely silent, as it was every time Harley brought up her abilities around her parents, until Mrs. Torrance said, “Well, you did get perfect marks on your tests. I don’t know if any other private school will take you with this on your record, but your test scores will have to count for something.”

As they drove up to their house, Harley blinked a few times to be sure what she was seeing was real. Was that really a ten-foot-tall, hairy man waiting for them?

“What on Earth?” Mrs. Torrance said, slamming on the brakes.

The big man moved, and there was a normal sized man behind him, but he did not look very normal. His white hair and beard nearly reached the ground, and he was clad in purple robes that looked more like they came out of  _ The Lord Of The Rings _ than any shop in England.

“Excuse me, but just who are you and what are you doing here?” Mrs. Torrance demanded.

The old man reached his hand out to shake. “Forgive me for my abrupt appearance at your home. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This here is Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper and a trusted friend.”

“Lovely. Now why are you  _ here _ ?” Harley asked.

“For you, dear,” Dumbledore said simply. “But perhaps we should go inside first? Don’t want the neighbours getting curious, do we?”

Mrs. Torrance and Harley exchanged looks before Harley said, “What school are you from again and why are you here for me?”

“Because yer a witch, dear,” the man called Hagrid said.

“Yes, and for some reason you have escaped our notice for years. Now, shall we go inside, please?” Dumbledore suggested again. “It would seem the safest course of action.”

Mrs. Torrance nodded, unlocking their front door. She looked shell-shocked.

_ Is that man going to fit?  _ Harley wondered absently as they all walked into the house.

“Now,” Dumbledore began after the door was shut behind them, “when every witch and wizard in the UK turns eleven, they are all sent notices from Hogwarts that they are to begin their schooling. You are fourteen, which means you have evaded our notice for three years. Someone, most likely your birth parents, put a Concealment Charm on you to hide you from the Wizarding World for some reason.”

How did he know she was an adopted witch? What was this school he was talking about?

“Now, we received notice that there was an underage witch performing powerful magic at a Muggle school here, so we came straightaway to see what was happening. Performing magic in the Muggle world underage is prohibited. Letting Muggles see you performing magic is forbidden for all of us.”

“Muggle?”

“Non-magic people.”

Dumbledore and Hagrid both took turns explaining what Hogwarts and the Wizarding World was, and after an hour had passed, Harley was ecstatic. An all-magic world and school? A place where she wouldn’t be a freak of nature anymore? It sounded too good to be true.

Dumbledore handed her a letter written on parchment, stating her acceptance into Hogwarts. “Welcome, Miss Torrance.”

“Hold on--what makes you think that I am going to let my child go away to a--a magical boarding school?” Mrs. Torrance asked shrilly.

“Mother,” Harley said, “if I stay in this place, what do you think could happen to me? You saw what occurred today. It will only get worse as I get older.”

“Mrs. Torrance, Hogwarts is an ancient institution. And also, you cannot revoke a witch or wizard’s acceptance unless you are either myself or from the Ministry of Magic. It is her birthright, and you can’t stop her from going,” Dumbledore said. The tone he used was kind, but his eyes were hard behind his half-moon spectacles.

Harley was studying her letter. There were a lot of things she needed to get, and she asked how she would obtain them.

“Well, I ‘ave two books yeh need with me,” Hagrid said, handing her  _ Hogwarts, A History _ and  _ A History Of Modern Magic _ . “Teh rest I’ll take yeh ter get a week before term starts. I’ll show yeh how ter turn Muggle money inter Galleons ter use at Diagon Alley.”

_ Whatever that means. _

“Now, before we conclude this visit, may I see a short demonstration of what you can do?” Dumbledore asked. “To know what year you need to be put in for classes.”

Harley nodded, and explained to him about how she could make things levitate, come to her at will, make things move, and mix various potions. She showed him a few of her homemade brews from her basement workshop.

Dumbledore made a few notes and then said, “Well, with the exception of flying, you seem to be right where you need to be, magic wise. I think our Potions Master will have to keep on  _ his  _ toes around you. I’ll have the professors test you on the first day as well.” He stood and shook her hand. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Torrance. We’re happy to have you.”

That evening, Harley could hear her parents arguing over her going to Hogwarts, but she didn’t pay much mind. She was going, whether they liked it or not.


	2. Slytherin Or Gryffindor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley meets the Golden Trio before going to Hogwarts for the first time. What will the Sorting Hat reveal about her past?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little early, but I could not resist! Here come many more of your favourite Potter characters!

The last week of August, Hagrid showed up at the Torrance house to take Harley to Diagon Alley. With little protest, her parents let her go. They had to take the Tube because she couldn’t Apparate or fly yet, and she didn’t have any Floo Powder...whatever that was.

“Are yeh excited?” Hagrid asked.

“Oh, yes, I certainly am,” Harley replied, not used to the bubbling excitement. Usually, she had, at best, apathetic enjoyment when going to English Lit or Chemistry class.

When they got to Diagon Alley, she was in awe of the strange, bustling place filled with humans and things she could not identify. She felt right at home in her oversized black coat, which hung on her like a cloak. She always wore it, even in the stifling summer heat. It was like a security blanket of sorts.

They went to Gringotts bank to exchange her money and went to get her school robes. Harley was startled but entranced by the moving pictures she saw in every shop window she passed. Hagrid told he that her robes would change colour accents once she found out what House she was sorted into. Harley did not quite understand that, but kept quiet. It seemed that the more explanations Hagrid gave, the more confused she became.

“First things first: time ter get yer wand,” Hagrid announced with glee as he led her into Ollivander’s shop. The old wizard was slightly off-putting, but he seemed to know what he was doing. It took about fifteen minutes before she found the right wand: nearly fifteen inches and made of Alder wood with a unicorn hair core. It was matte black and the end was elaborately carved.

“A great wand,” Ollivander said. “I haven’t sold one of these for over twenty years, as most young wizards and witches can’t handle the magic this wood holds: it is excellent for nonverbal spells. You’re a gifted young lady, certainly.”

As they exited Ollivander’s shop, she heard many voices calling Hagrid’s name. She turned to see a group of what were probably Hogwarts students coming towards them. Four were younger than she, two of them were probably her age, and one was a bit older. Five of them were obviously siblings: two were twin boys and the other three all possessed the same flaming red hair.

“Ah, ‘ello!” Hagrid said with a smile. “Great timin’. This is ‘Arley Torrance. She’s gon’ start at ‘Ogwarts this year. Missed ‘er first three years. She’ll be in yer year, boys.” He gestured to the twins. “‘Arley, this is ‘Ermoine Granger; Ginny, Ron, Percy, Fred, an’ George Weasley; an’ this is ‘Arry Potter!”

She’d read about Harry: the infant who faced the evil wizard Voldemort and lived. He was a legend and  _ A History Of Modern Magic _ practically sang his praises. He did not seem very impressive in his too-big clothes and spectacles that gave him an owlish appearance, but she knew looks could be deceiving.

Previous experiences had made her shy and mistrustful around new people, so all she managed was a stiff, “Hello.” She sounded rude and abrupt to her own ears, so she could imagine what they were thinking of her. For some reason, the twin named Fred Weasley was blushing like a tomato. It was cute, in a way.

_ Did I just call someone cute? I must be losing my bloody mind. _

“How were you avoiding Hogwarts for three years?” the one called Percy asked. Harley knew right away she didn’t like him: too stuffy and spoke with an air of authority he did not deserve to portray.

“I have magical parents who died when I was three. They put a Concealment Charm on me, apparently. And why is it your business, Weasley?” she asked.

“Don’t mind him,” Fred said, recovering his voice. “He’s a prefect, so he thinks he’s a real big shot.”

“When all he is is a big head,” George muttered as Percy walked into a nearby shop. “So, you’ll be in fourth year with us. D’you know a lot about magic already?”

“That’s how we found ‘er,” Hagrid said. “Gave a classmate scales, she did.”

“Scales?” Hermione and Ginny looked startled, but the boys laughed.

“How did you do that?” Harry asked, eyes alight. “Maybe I can do it to Malfoy!”

Harley couldn’t help but smile. She had never felt so welcome before than she did with this group. “It’s quite a simple potion: some of her hair, some snakeskin, a binding agent, and I brewed it in tea so she didn’t know she was drinking it. It is virtually tasteless.”

Harry’s face fell. “It’s a potion. Damn!”

“Not good at them?” Harley asked.

“Hate our Potions teacher. Or, rather, he hates Harry,” Ron explained.

“Now, no one is goin’ ter be doin’ that at ‘Ogwarts!” Hagrid said sternly. “‘Arley, we’ve got ter get yer books. Want ter meet at teh Leaky Cauldron fer lunch ‘fore we leave?”

Everyone nodded and Harley tried to hurry through the crowded bookstore where some idiotic-looking wizard named Lockhart was doing a book signing. They had many of his books on her list of things to get for school. She was dying to get to know more about what it was like being a student at Hogwarts and what she might have to look forward to learning.

The Leaky Cauldron was a dingy place, but it was quiet. She and Hagrid got there before the others, so Harley fished a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Hagrid. “Here. This is the list of spells I know that Dumbledore asked for. They are not much, and I have never hurt anyone with them. Tried them out on spiders I caught, is all. I put down what age I was when I first used them as well.”

Hagrid studied the paper with an odd look on his face and put it away just as the others came in, followed by what must have been Mrs. Weasley, who immediately fussed over Harley. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered or wished the old lady would lay off.

They talked and Harley listened. They told her about the fun lessons, the good teachers, the bad teachers (Harry and Ron detested a man named Snape like the Devil), and the ghosts who hung around. She learned about Sorting, and assumed she’d be put in Ravenclaw straightaway judging by the descriptions they gave of each House.

There was a lot of information to process, but it all made Harley think that the week wait to get to Hogwarts was going to be agony.

“We’ll meet you at King’s Cross on the first to help you get on the train,” Harry promised as they all went to leave to go home. “It’s really weird the first time you go to Platform 9 ¾.”

“I’ll take you at your word,” Harley said. “Then again, what part of this is not weird?”

 

****

 

There was no such thing as Platform 9 ¾. There was nine, and then ten. Nothing in between. Harley stood before the platforms, befuddled. Was there some sort of charm she needed to perform? She clutched her things on the trolley, despising being put at a disadvantage like this.

“Harley!”

She turned and saw the group from the week before rushing towards her. It was Fred that was calling her, waving madly. She gave a tentative wave back.

“You got here quickly,” Hermione said. “Well, I did too on my first year.”

Mrs. Weasley touched her young daughter’s shoulder. “It’s Ginny’s first year, too. You know what to do, honey?”

The little redhead nodded, took her trolley, and ran headfirst for the pillar between platforms nine and ten. Harley watched, certain they were going to need a medic, but the girl disappeared into thin air.

“Can anyone get in there?” Harley wondered.

“Oh, no, dear, only witches and wizards,” Mrs. Weasley told her. “Go on next. Remember, be confident, or else the magic will not work for you.”

Harley gripped the handle of the trolley that carried her luggage and heaved a sigh, half wondering how badly it would hurt if she was repelled by the magic in the wall. Determined, she ran straight at the wall...and came out on a large platform, where a shiny red train bearing the name “Hogwarts Express” was preparing to depart.

The other Weasley children came through, followed by Hermione and the elder Weasleys. No one bothered waiting on the platform for Ron and Harry to get there. Mrs. Weasley got Ginny settled, Percy went immediately to the prefects’ car, and Harley stood there, overwhelmed.

“Come on, I’ll help you with your bags,” Fred said to Harley, smiling widely.

Unused to such helpfulness from peers, Harley simply gave a surprised nod as he showed her where to put her things and then he and George led her into the train, in the compartments meant for fourth years.

“Where do I sit?” Harley asked, despising feeling so out of place.

“With us, of course,” Fred replied, taking her by the arm of her black sweater and pulling her along. They peered into compartments until they spotted a lone boy with dreadlocks in one, trying to configure a portable radio.

“Lee! Hey,” the twins said. George plopped down next to him, which left the other side to Fred and Harley. She sat down gingerly, her carry-on in her lap with her robes and a book to read in case she got bored.

“This is Harley Torrance. She’s new to Hogwarts,” Fred introduced. “Harley, this is Lee Jordan.”

He smiled amiably, but she saw him looking at her clothes and expression with barely disguised apprehension. “Nice to meet you. Gryffindor?”

“Excuse me?” Harley asked.

“Your House,” he explained.

“In case you’re hard of hearing, Jordan, I do not  _ have  _ a House yet,” she said irritably. She hated her own personality, but she did not suffer fools gladly. 

The twins laughed at what she said, so she didn't feel as bad about insulting their friend. Talk turned to the upcoming classes. Most of them were excited about Transfiguration, except Fred, who wondered what kind of teacher Lockhart would be. He loved Defence Against The Dark Arts the most.

Fred asked Harley what class she thought she’d like, and she answered with “Potions.”

Lee snorted. “Not after you actually attend the class you won’t.”

For most of the ride, she was happy to listen to the three of them talk, gathering information about the school, classes, and teachers. They finally disembarked and Harley could see the castle in the distance, windows alight with candles and fireplaces, looking as if it came from a picture book. It was old and Gothic, and she loved it.

Hermione found the foursome and said, “Harry and Ron never got on the train!”

“What?” the twins cried in unison.

“What happens to kids who miss the train?” Harley asked.

“No idea. Probably expelled,” Fred said nonchalantly, winking at Harley when he saw the horrified look on Hermione’s face. Was it possible she actually had a friend in Fred Weasley? It seemed highly unlikely, but a pleasant thought.

Hagrid came and told Harley to walk in with the first years, so she could go and see Dumbledore before Sorting began. It was then that Hermione told him about Harry and Ron, and she watched a look of fear cross Hagrid’s face. “I’ll tell Dumbledore,” he said, and then Harley got in a boat to enter the castle for the first time.

She didn’t have any time to wonder where Harry and Ron were once they all got into Hogwarts. Dumbledore pulled her aside immediately.

“We’ll get you Sorted first. Now, do you want me to tell them why you’re being Sorted in your fourth year?”

“Please,” Harley replied. “I don’t want any unnecessary gossip.”

Dumbledore led her to the front of the great hall, with over a thousand pairs of eyes on her, and told a simplified version of Harley’s life. “And now,” he concluded, “let us begin the Sorting Ceremony with Miss Torrance!”

Harley stepped forward and sat on a stool as an old, tattered hat was put on her head. To her surprise, she heard the voice of the Hat whispering in her ear as it decided where to put her.

“ _ Well, well, isn’t this a surprise: a fourteen-year-old getting Sorted? Well, where do I put you. Not Hufflepuff; you’d kill them all. Perhaps Ravenclaw? You’re certainly smart enough, aren’t you? But you wouldn’t like the petty in-fighting. You’re above that. So, let’s look at your parents. Your mother was a Gryffindor, and you’ve certainly got her wit and bravery. You father now, he’s a proud Slytherin, and you could be his clone, you know. Silent and brooding, but brilliant. Better be… _ ”

“ _ Oh, just bloody sort me already! _ ” Harley thought, stunned when the hat answered her by yelling out her house.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table--which included everyone she had met before--burst into applause, the Weasley twins clapping the loudest.

“Welcome to Gryffindor,” said an elderly woman with a wide-brimmed, pointed hat. “I am Professor McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House.”

“Good going, Harley!” Fred said.

It wasn’t until after Harry and Ron had finally arrived (and received punishment) and everyone was settling into Gryffindor common room that Harley had the time to dwell on what the Hat had told her. Her mother was a brave, witty woman; a Gryffindor. Her father’s a brooding, brilliant Slytherin. There was something about that second sentence that sounded different to her. What was it?

“Oh, my God!” she sat up ramrod straight, the words finally registering in her mind.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“The Hat: it told me my mum was a Gryffindor. It also said that my father  _ is  _ a Slytherin,” Harley said. “Don’t you see what that means?”

“Yeah--that the two Houses can mate,” Ron joked.

“No, you idiot,” Hermione said. “The Hat spoke of her mother in the past tense. It spoke of her father in the present tense. That means--”

“--My father is alive,” Harley finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please leave kudos and comments. xoxo


	3. Inherited Darkness?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley has her first tests to see just how powerful she is. Can she be the only Gryffindor student to pass Severus Snape's oral exam? And just why is Dumbledore worried about her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was what came to my mind first, wanting a Gryffindor student to pass the questions Snape had posed to Harry on his first day in The Philosopher's Stone. We see Snape with the students he hates, but we never see him with the ones he likes (and he has to like some of them), so I wanted to show the good teacher side of him.

It was astounding all these years she had been told both of her parents had died in a home invasion of some sort. To know that her father had lived, it meant she had the chance to find what family she had. The thing was, how would she find him if she didn’t know his name or his face?

It was a problem she could not dwell on the next day, for she had to undergo rigorous tests to be certain of her class placement.

First off was Herbology, which was very easy for her, as she had studied these plants on her own time when she was attempting to mix various potions in her basement. The professor was a bit simple and obviously a pushover to Harley’s mind, but she passed the test with flying colours. Harley was already thinking of ways she could use the professor’s meek nature to her advantage.

Then was Transfiguration, with McGonagall. That was very fun, but a bit more difficult. She barely passed. That was not something she practiced, but she found she was going to enjoy the challenge. Charms was much easier, and Professor Flitwick (the Head of Ravenclaw) told her she had almost surpassed fourth year skills already.

Defence Against The Dark Arts was more of a written test, and since she had studied vampires and werewolves, she passed that as well. Lockhart helped by being a clueless fool, as she had thought he would be. She seemed to be the only girl in the school who was not enamoured with him.

After lunch, she had a flying lesson with Madam Hooch. Harley was thoroughly embarrassed throughout the entire lesson. It seemed that flying was not her forte at all, and the instructor promised her that, with a few extra lessons, she’d do better.

History of Magic was extremely dull, but she also passed, having read the books Hagrid had given her and more that she had gotten from Flourish and Blotts. If Professor Binns wasn’t already dead, she’d have put a Charm on him to speed him up somehow.

She exited the classroom with a relieved sigh, passing Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordan as she went.

“How’s it going?” Fred asked.

“Going quite well, though Binns really  _ should  _ be told he can retire now,” she said.

They all laughed. “Where you off to now?” Fred asked.

“Last test: Potions. I think I have got this one covered all things considered,” Harley said.

“Yeah, maybe you would if you weren’t a Gryffindor,” Lee scoffed. “Snape is the Head of Slytherin and he hates us all. He’ll take marks off for any small mistake we make. He’ll probably put you in first year just to spite the whole House!”

Harley sniffed, “I would love to see him try.” She walked down the stairs into the dungeon where Potions class was held, feeling right at home. After all, she spent most of her childhood holed up in her basement making potions and hexing spiders and rats, pretending they were her tormentors.

She’d seen Professor Snape the previous evening at the feast. He’d kept his head down and hadn’t said anything before leaving early to catch Harry and Ron as they tried to sneak in, so this was to be the first real impression of the man that all the Gryffindors seemed to hate and fear. Ron had gone on a particularly colourful rant about him the evening prior.

He was bent over his desk, writing with a quill and had seemed not to notice her.

“Hello? Professor?” she said quietly so as not to startle him.

“I hope you did not think that I was unaware of your presence, Miss Torrance,” Snape said, his voice low and melodious. He looked up, standing to his full height. He was fair-skinned with the darkest eyes she had ever seen, and long black hair. His expression was searching, and she felt scrutinised as she stood before him. She assumed he must intimidate many of his students. “Tell me, what is the purpose of gillyweed?”

“Enables the person who uses it to breathe underwater for a short period of time,” Harley replied. The test was starting already, without even a formal introduction?

“And what is a bezoar?”

“Antidote. I used a bit of it to make a cure for the cold, flu, and pneumonia when I was eleven. A bit hard to come by unless you are fond of eviscerating goats.”

“What is the difference between acontium and wolfsbane?”

“They are essentially the same thing: poison, but can be used for certain medicinal purposes if found in wolfsbane form. Mixing wolfsbane and bezoar can be a powerful antidote if the potioneer is capable enough, but mixing it with asphodel could kill someone almost instantly, or put them in a deathlike trance. Because it’s so dangerous on its own, few people like to use it nowadays unless they want to sicken or kill someone, with the exception of the Wolfsbane Potion.”

“Mugwort.” Snape fixed her with a piercing stare, and she stared right back, confident.

“Protection. More commonly used in hex bags as opposed to potions.”

Snape made a note on his parchment, and then turned back to Harley. “So, you were found out because you made a classmate drink a potion that gave her snake scales. Make me the potion.”

Harley gave a snort of laughter. “Providing that you have dried snakeskin on hand--and I am sure you do--on whom will I test the potion? Myself? Or would you rather be my guinea pig, Professor?”

Snape’s eyes darkened even more. “Do  _ not  _ take that tone with me, Miss Torrance. Just because you are self-taught does not give you the right to be arrogant.” He looked at her and sighed. “Make the potion with your own hair, I’ll test it on your skin topically. I have an antidote here for you to use on yourself.”

Harley took less than ten minutes to whip up her potion, using her wand to make it even stronger than she had before. Snape poured a few drops on her forearm, and she felt her skin itch as the scales appeared. She stole a look at her professor and was pleased to see that he was momentarily silenced.

He went to his cupboard and took out a small phial with a brush and brushed a sticky purple ointment onto the scales and they disappeared as fast as they’d come. Still not speaking, he made another note on the parchment.

Turning back to her he said grudgingly, “You are one of the brightest students I have ever taught. Fourteen, never having set foot in a Wizarding school, and yet your knowledge is far beyond what most students your age would know. You have passed the test. Congratulations, and I am awarding Gryffindor ten points for your ingenuity. For homework, please revise your potion to be universal and brewed without hair. I’d like to include it in my curriculum in later years.”

Harley looked up in shock. She had expected him to ridicule her, treat her as badly as the others claimed he treated them.

“Thank you, Professor. I look forward to your classes,” Harley said.

She was certain no one had ever told Snape that before. His haughty mask slipped for a split second, and Harley smirked at him as she left his classroom. The day was done, and she could relax until her official classes began the next day.

As she entered the Great Hall for dinner, she heard Fred exclaim: “I thought I lost ten points in McGonagall’s class! Why are they still there?”

“Because I just earned them,” Harley said, removing her robe and unknotting her red and gold tie a little.

George gave her a high-five, which surprised her. “Nice going! So, you aced everything?”

“Not flying.” Harley grimaced. “I certainly won’t be joining the Quidditch team anytime soon with my dismal skills. And I barely scraped through Transfiguration.” Sitting down and pouring a cup of tea she asked, “So, what did you all do to get on Professor Snape’s bad side?”

“Nothing!” Harry cried. “He just hates us all, especially me! I dread his classes every day, almost as much as I dread going back to the Dursleys.”

“Hm. Well, he seems fair to me. A little tough, perhaps, but I did not find him to be the monster you all are describing. Lockhart, on the other hand, someone needs to give that man the Cruciatus Curse if you ask my opinion!”

“What’s that?” Ron asked.

“They haven’t taught you that in the Dark Arts classes? Really?” Harley sighed. “It’s an Unforgivable Dark Curse. Very few people on Earth deserve such torture.”

Ron and Harry laughed, but Hermione said, “He’s perfect! Why does everyone seem to hate him?”

“Hermione, he set a bunch of pygmies loose and left us to handle them!” Ron cried. “He’s a lot of talk and no action: I don’t care what those books of his say.”

“I have to agree with Ron,” Harley said. “He talked so much I wanted to give him a Silencing Charm so I could finish my paper on vampires. Quite full of himself, that one.”

“McGonagall doesn’t seem to like him, either,” Harry observed.

“What’s the bet that he quits or gets sacked before Christmas break?” Fred asked, leaning on the back of Harley’s chair.

“I’ll bet a Galleon,” Harley said.

“I’m in!” said Oliver Wood, the Quidditch captain.

The table was aflutter with laughter and jokes, and for once, Harley felt as if she truly belonged somewhere. She did not notice that fourth year Quidditch player Alicia Spinnet did not seem very pleased at Harley’s sudden friendship with the rest of the House.

 

****

 

“Longbottom, for the love of Merlin, will you put that wand down before you kill us all?” Harley barked. It had been one week since she came to Hogwarts, and she was more than comfortable telling off those who needed telling, like second year and class idiot, Neville Longbottom. Snape has assigned the second years a very simple potion for homework, and yet Longbottom had managed to send greyish bubbles and hot sparks all over the room, never once completing his potion. Many of the Gryffindors had been singed already.

“S-sorry!” he stammered, looking tearful.

“That is so simple I could have done it at six,” Harley commented. She stood up and said, “I’m going to the library to finish this before you set my parchment ablaze.”

She took her supplies and stalked out of the Gryffindor common room, taking the staircase to the right to get to the library. As she was on it, it changed direction, taking her the opposite way. She sighed, resigning herself to a longer walk as she went about the halls. She only paused when she heard her name being spoken.

“Miss Torrance is brilliant,” Professor McGonagall said. “Almost too brilliant.”

“That’s why I called the two of you here,” said Dumbledore. “This is the list I asked her to compile of all the spells, charms, and hexes she has learned her entire life. Look at these. Jinxes and hexes, most. Dangerous. And the Cruciatus Curse! Her parents hid her for a reason. Could they have been in league with Voldemort before they died?”

“Before one of them died,” McGonagall corrected. “The Hat told her her father was alive. He could have murdered her mother, you know, for You-Know-Who.”

“That is speculation only, Minerva,” said the condescending voice of Professor Snape. “May I see the list, Albus?”

Harley peeked around the corner, barely able to see Snape holding up a piece of her notebook paper. “Hm. I knew many of these spells by the time I was admitted to Hogwarts, and I was eleven. I honestly do not believe that Miss Torrance is a danger to us. Let us say you’re correct, Minerva, and her father is a Dark Lord supporter and will come for her, to bring her to the Dark Lord. First off, we could easily fight one man off ourselves. Second, you are assuming that she is inherently evil. I do not believe that. She’s gifted and curious, but not Dark.”

Harley blushed hearing such things said about her. She would never have expected Snape to be championing her, despite her excellence in his class the past week.

“I believe you are correct, Severus,” Dumbledore said. “Indeed, I only called this meeting to caution you all to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. I believe Harley is just a brilliant girl, nothing more. However, we must  _ all  _ caution her to never curse or hex anyone unless it is for a class. Having an inherent interest in the Dark Arts can be problematic if harvested for a prolonged period of time.”

“Meanwhile, should we look into her parents?” McGonagall asked.

“I think it would be better if Harley would look into it for herself. Let her discover her past as she sees fit,” Dumbledore said. “Severus, will you be the one to talk to her? I think your experiences make you the most qualified.”

“Fine, Albus. Now that you have wasted my time, allow me to go back and plan tomorrow’s lessons.” Snape stood up and Harley ran off so he did not catch her eavesdropping. Dumbledore and McGonagall would probably think she was a spy for Voldemort!

She wanted to be more upset, but she  _ did  _ know a lot of Dark Arts, and it  _ was  _ weird that her parents put a Concealment Charm on her. Until she found out why, she would be worried about who her real father was as well.

The next day, Snape asked her to stay after class, causing the Slytherins and some Gryffindors to give mocking “Oooohs”.

“Any more of that the whole class gets detention!” Snape warned, and everyone scurried out. Turning back to Harley he said, “I was asked by Dumbledore to speak with you, pertaining to the list of spells you turned in prior to your coming to Hogwarts.”

“Professor, may I interject and save you some time?” Harley asked. “I accidentally overheard you and the other two yesterday. I can assure you that I am in no way affiliated with the Dark Lord. If my parents are or were, it doesn’t matter. I am my own person, and I would never join with their side even if forced.”

Snape looked suspicious. “And how did you overhear us?”

“I was on a staircase that turned me around. I swear, I would not have even stopped had I not heard my name mentioned,” Harley said, certain that she was going to get points taken off. If she did, it would be her first punishment from Snape.

“And how did you come to know so many jinxes and curses?” he asked.

Looking down at her shoes she muttered, “Revenge. I was bullied my whole life. But I swear, I never used a single spell on a human being until that snakeskin potion.”

Snape didn’t look angry or suspicious anymore. “That is what I thought. Believe me, I know the allure the Dark Arts have better than most. If you ever need to speak to me, have any questions, you know where my office is. But please, don’t experiment on your own, Miss Torrance.” He muttered, “Or ask that fool, Lockhart.”

Harley supposed this was the wizarding equivalent of the “don’t do drugs” speech. How odd that the least paternal of the teachers would be the one to speak to her about it. She wondered what prior experiences Snape had that qualified him to talk about it. And yet he was not telling her “don’t use Dark Magic”. He said, “don’t experiment on your own”.

“I won’t, Professor. I promise. And thank you. If I ever have a question, I will come to you. May I go? McGonagall gave quite a bit of work today. I think the twins are going to die before finishing their homework if I do not assist their studies.” She smiled.

Snape waved his hand towards the door and she left quickly, relieved.

Back in the common room, Harry asked, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” Harley asked back.

“Get Snape to like you. No Gryffindor has managed to please him, and Hermione is almost as good at Potions as you are.”

Harley made a few notes on her parchment and said, “I don’t  _ do  _ anything, Potter. I show up, get good marks, and leave. Nothing to it.”

“There has to be something,” Ron said. “He even hated Percy, and Percy is literally perfect.”

“That might be why he hates him,” Harley pointed out, and the Weasleys all laughed. Except Ginny, who was absent that night. Harley hoped the kid hadn’t gotten lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated! Look for another update in a week. <3


	4. Lockhart's Dueling Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley is confronted with her own emotions towards Fred Weasley, has an intriguing conversation with Professor Snape, and participates in Gilderoy Lockhart's Dueling Club against Quidditch player Alicia Spinnet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this chapter really set the tone for the rest of the fic. I hope you like it!

Being older, Harley didn’t get as involved with Harry’s friends’ escapades, though no student could escape the fear that permeated the school once Mrs. Norris had been found Petrified. Who was Slytherin’s heir, and how many students would be Petrified before someone closed the Chamber Of Secrets back up again? What if someone died?

The second years (particularly that brat Malfoy) were convinced that Harry was the heir, which was ridiculous. Despite his recent revelation that he could speak Parseltongue (and Harley was quite envious of that), there was no way he opened the Chamber. Being as famous as he was, someone would have seen him. It had to be someone more under the radar. Someone no one would notice or ever think poorly of.

In the older classes, Harley overheard Slytherins gossiping that she, Harley, was the heir. She understood why people were thinking that: she showed up out of the blue after being Concealed with an unknown Slytherin father. But she wasn’t, and after a while the whispering got on her nerves.

“I’d like to use  _ Expelliarmus  _ and send them flying all the way across the school,” she muttered during lunch, sitting between the twins.

“Look, they’re trying to get a rise out of you after Snape announced you were the only one who got a perfect score on that potion last week,” Fred commented. “They’re jealous that he’s favouring a Gryffindor over them.”

“At least  _ someone  _ likes me. McGonagall watches me like I’m going to jump up and put an Unforgivable Curse on her,” Harley said with a sigh.

“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” Fred asked, pretending to be offended.

“Exactly,” George said, Transfiguring Fred’s plate of chips into liver.

“Hey!”

Harley smiled as the twins squabbled around her. Despite their childish dispositions, Harley liked them. Especially Fred, with whom she studied and spoke more. He was charming in his own, unique way. Funny, a prankster, but never cruel. She had been the victim of too many cruel pranks to ever befriend anyone who committed them. There was a fine line between a jester and a bully, and Fred never once crossed it.

On the way out of lunch, Hermione ran up to Harley and pulled her aside. “Hey, you know Fred really likes you.”

“I had hoped he didn’t detest me,” Harley said sarcastically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You are older than me but you’re so thick in some areas. He likes you. Like,  _ really _ .”

“Oh!” Harley hadn’t thought about that. Certainly, he was handsome but romance was not something she ever concerned herself with. This would require some serious thought.

She did not have much time to think about it, because Lockhart’s Dueling Club was about to begin for the fourth years. Having heard about the fight between Harry and Draco, she was interested to see what would happen this time around.

Harley stood around the raised dais with the others, watching as Snape glowered at Lockhart as the foolish wizard began telling tales of famous duels he had supposedly won. Harley was extraordinarily bored.

“Now, since you’re older, I don’t think you need Professor Snape and I to demonstrate very much aside from duelling formalities, do you?”

_ You just don’t want him knocking you across the Great Hall again _ , Harley thought, wishing she had been there to see that.

Lockhart called the twins up to duel each other, and Harley was very impressed. Their form was off, but their spells were clever. They wound up in a stalemate, winning Gryffindor no extra points from Professor Snape. After that were a Ravenclaw and Slytherin Harley didn't know. The Ravenclaw lost, and Slytherin was awarded five points from Snape. Then there were two Hufflepuffs, whose spells were not as impressive but well executed. Snape gave a grudging five points to their House.

“Miss Torrance, why don't you go next?” Snape suggested, gesturing to the dais.

Lockhart picked Alicia Spinnet, one of Harley’s roommates, to duel her, and the two girls bowed to each other before Harley mimicked the stance Professor Snape had shown them and said, “ _ Wingardium leviosa _ !”

Alicia raised her wand and blocked it. “ _ Protego _ !   _ Locomotor Mortis _ !”

“ _ Finite Incantatum _ !” Harley stopped the spell before it reached her. “ _ Flipendo _ !” Alicia was thrown backwards. “ _ Immobulus _ !” Alicia had begun to get up but was knocked backwards.

“ _ Tarantallegra _ !” Alicia said, casting the spell from the ground.

Harley felt her legs move on their own, dancing, and everyone in the hall (except Professor Snape) was laughing at her, especially Alicia. Her face flamed with embarrassment, feeling like she was back in Muggle school, with Carol pranking her for her own amusement. She pointed her own wand at her dancing legs and again said, “ _ Finite Incantatum _ .” Turning to Alicia she cast “ _ Furnunculus _ !” Red, angry, oozing boils began to appear on every visible inch of Alicia’s body and she screamed in pain.

Lockhart looked terrified. “What did she do?”

“It is a simple hex, you clueless fool. Get Spinnet to the infirmary,” Snape said to him. To Spinnet he said, “Stop whining and act like a witch will you?”

Harley was smirking, unable to help it. “Who’s laughing now?” she asked a whimpering Spinnet as Lockhart Levitated her out of the Great Hall. She hopped off the dais and went to stand back down by the twins. It seemed her spell had ended Duelling Club early.

“Miss Torrance,” Snape called.

She stiffened as she walked back to him, expecting a punishment for using that spell. She realised she had probably gone overboard, but she despised being laughed at. “Yes, sir?”

“Excellent spellwork. Well beyond your years. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

 

****

 

Christmas break came, and Harley had managed to write and convince her parents to take a tropical vacation, telling them she didn’t mind staying at Hogwarts. What she didn’t say was that she wanted to help Harry and Ron solve the mystery of who opened the Chamber Of Secrets. Two students had been Petrified, and more were likely to follow if something wasn’t done.

“Talk to Moaning Myrtle?” she said one day during a planning session. “I’d rather kiss Neville’s toad.”

Fred laughed and said, “I’ll tell him as soon as he comes back for winter term.”

“Piss off, Weasley!”

“Weasley? Which one?” Harry asked, laughing. There were now five Weasleys in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“I was raised by Muggles. What if they get me next, even though I’m likely a pureblood?” Harley wondered. “What a way to top off my first year as an official witch!”

“Who have you thought of that might be the heir?” Ron asked. “We know it isn’t Malfoy or his gang. It’s not any of us. Could it be...nah, that’s crazy.”

“We’re living in a concealed castle, practising magic, and looking for some ancient monster that wants to kill us. Nothing is too crazy,” Harley commented.

“Could it be Snape? I mean, think about it. He’s a Slytherin, he hates the kids who were Petrified, and he hates Mrs. Norris, too,” Ron said.

Harley scoffed. “Uh-huh. Of all things Snape could do if he wanted to, he sets a monster on the school? He’s a powerful wizard: if he wanted to attack Mudbloods, he’d do a better job than two in nearly four months, and he would probably do it himself, rather than do something that could easily be traced to him if he were the heir. To be fair, we  _ all  _ hate Mrs. Norris, and I actually love cats. In my opinion, the heir has to be an idiot, because he or she will be found out eventually. Just check family trees and such for Salazar Slytherin’s heir.”

Harry polished his glasses out of nervousness. “As much as I dislike Snape, I agree with Harley. Plus, the Chamber was opened fifty years ago, meaning the heir has to be at least sixty-one. Snape is too young.”

“If it’s the same heir as last time,” Ginny spoke up, reminding them of that fact. “And Harley, you’re not supposed to say that word.”

“What word?” Harley asked.

“The M-word. It’s considered slander, and generally really mean.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

On Christmas, Mrs. Weasley sent Harry and Harley sweaters, just like she did for her own kids. Harley thought it was disgusting, but a sweet gesture. Her parents sent her a new robe that had black lace at the border, a custom wand case, and some books from home.

Things got worse after Christmas, when Hermione was Petrified for being a Mudblood. Harley was horrified. Two Gryffindors were down, one of them so young he looked like he shouldn’t even be in Hogwarts yet. It was terrible.

She found herself unable to sleep, and was thankful for Astronomy classes at night. One night after class she was walking slowly to the dorm, fearing being Petrified in her sleep, when she came across Professor Snape.

“Isn’t Astronomy over?” he asked her coolly.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Then what are you doing in the halls at one in the morning, Miss Torrance?” He glared down at her and she felt her heart stop. Not one student in Gryffindor had failed to tell her how the Potions Master was notorious for giving out the harshest punishments. So far, she had avoided his wrath.

“I was just...dawdling. I am sorry sir, I’ll get straight to my dorm.”

“That is across the school. Allow me to walk you. Wouldn’t do for a student to be injured or worse when staff could have been there to prevent it,” he said, the cold voice never changing. Harley could see why so many students hated and feared him. It was similar to why kids hated her at school: the black hair, the black wardrobe, and the attitude never helped popularity. In the Muggle world they called her “Goth”. Here, it was less abnormal, but still not widely acceptable, as proven by the way Snape was perceived by the students. She was surprised, however, that he did not punish her. Perhaps he had some sympathy for the fear permeating the students.

They walked in silence, Snape’s wand lighting the way. His  _ lumos  _ spell was stronger than hers by far.

“Professor, may I ask you a question that might possibly offend you?” she asked suddenly.

“Ask away, but know I will take points depending on how offensive it is,” he warned.

“Why do the students hate you? They tell me horrible things, and yet I don’t find you awful at all. Is it just me that you treat differently?” she wondered.

He looked down at her and resumed walking, his pace brisker than before. “I treat students how they deserve to be treated. You are an exceptional pupil, and I will treat you as such until you give me a reason not to.” He cast a sidelong glance at her again. “Aside...you remind me of someone I knew years ago.”

Harley wanted to ask more, but Snape left her at the Common Room entrance and walked away without another word. “Bloody Hell,” she said.

“Sorry, wrong password,” the Fat Lady snipped.

“Bite me,” Harley snapped, giving the password and finally getting admission.

Closer to the end of term, the staff sent Lockhart into what was most likely certain death to find the monster in the Chamber after poor little Ginny had been taken. Ron and Harry followed, but Fred, George, and Harley did not. They paced and worried in the Common Room, Fred nervously chewing on a flavour-changing taffy from Honeyduke’s shop to calm himself.

Harley smirked. “Cheer up: remember that McGonagall and Professor Snape literally wanted to get Lockhart  _ killed  _ by sending him into the Chamber.”

“You say that with almost glee in your eyes,” Neville said, casting a sidelong glance at the raven-haired teen.

“Hell, he’d deserve it,” Fred commented, making Neville glance fearfully at him as well.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell Percy or Dumbledore?” Neville asked, scared. “They should know.”

“I trust Harry,” Fred said.

“And Ron,” George added.

Harley didn’t know why, but she agreed. There was something extraordinary about Harry Potter, despite the things he did that made her roll her eyes or wish she was in a different House. There was untapped power she could sense surging through his veins, and she felt that he could easily succeed in whatever he set his mind to, provided he kept his wits about him.

Brilliantly, Harry and Ron not only defeated the creature in the Chamber, they saved Ginny. Best of all, Lockhart was not only revealed as a fraud, he was incapacitated by his own Memory Charm. The fact the Voldemort--Tom Riddle--was trying to get himself a new body through the little first year was an unsettling thought.

From somewhere deep inside of her, Harley felt pure fear heating her body at the thought that Voldemort had almost come back to full power. Why did she fear him so much? Yes, she knew what he was capable of, but she also knew what mass murderers in the Muggle world were capable of, and she did not fear them. Not for the first time, she wondered if Voldemort was her father’s master. Or, even worse, could  _ be  _ her father. If so, she would never trust herself again.

The last day of term, Dumbledore held the usual feast and Gryffindor won the House Cup, and Harley noticed for the first time that Snape did indeed appear to be angry at their House’s win. Why did he dislike Gryffindor so much? Was it just the natural rivalry the two Houses had? Then again, they hadn’t  _ really  _ won: Dumbledore had awarded last-minute points, and Harley had to wonder if the headmaster was not the one to accuse of playing favouritism towards his old House.

As they boarded the train back to King’s Cross, Harley leaned back in her seat, clad in her Muggle clothes, relieved that she had survived her first year at Hogwarts but also sad to be going home. She had finally had friends and acceptance, and now she was going back to a place where she was hated (except by her parents, though she always suspected that they feared her).

“Poor Potter has to go back to those awful relatives, doesn’t he?” she asked the twins.

“Yeah. Did we tell you we had to rescue him over the summer by stealing Dad’s flying car and yanking metal bars from his window?” Fred asked.

She smirked. “Yeah, you did. Still funny, but frightening. I cannot imagine living in a place like that. I’d like to go over there and give them a taste of what real magic can do. I cannot believe Dumbledore has not do something to get him into a better home.”

“If it was legal, Harry would have already used magic on them,” George said.

“Are your parents okay with you having friends over, or whatnot?” Fred asked her.

“Huh. I supposed they would be. I can’t be sure, because I never had friends to invite over. But I am sure you would all be welcome,” Harley said.

They looked excited. “Great! Mum always needs a lot of help during the summers, what with all us kids still being home, but we might be able to get away for a few days and come visit. We’ll bring Ron, Hermione, and Harry if we can rescue him from the Dursleys,” Fred said. “How can we let you know we’re coming? Owl post?”

“If they see an owl flying around and into my window, the whole neighbourhood will talk,” Harley said. “Can you use a telephone like Muggles do?”

They looked thoughtful. “Hermione taught Ron how to use it. I’m sure if he can, we can,” George said.

Fred was busy occupying himself with studying the pattern of the black lace against Harley’s arms. “Our Muggle clothes aren’t as nice as yours are,” he said. “They look better on you than those shapeless robes do.”

The train got to King’s Cross, and Harley saw Harry glumly walk off to his family’s car, and Hermione waved excitedly as she dashed to the car that had come to pick her up. The Weasley parents were waiting to pick up their brood. Harley’s parents had sent a taxi for her.

“‘Bye, Harley. See you over the summer, all right?” Fred said. He looked sheepish as he said that and before Harley knew it, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before dashing off to join his family, who were jeering at him.

Harley blushed a deep crimson as she went to her taxi. Her parents, who had told everyone she was at a special boarding school for the intelligent, were at home, waiting for her with a small get-together of their relatives. Not her relatives. Now more than ever, she felt disconnected from the Torrances. She felt an acute longing to discover her heritage, her father.

One day in early August the phone rang in the Torrance house and Mrs. Torrance answered. Immediately, she looked confused.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Who is this? Sir, you need to lower your voice.”

Harley smiled. “Mother, that is for me.” She whispered, “They do not have phones in the Wizarding World.” She took the phone. “Fred? Is that you?”

“Harley!” Fred cried. “Sorry, I guess I was talking too loud to your mum. So, we can get everyone but Harry to stop by on Monday. That’s the only day no one has any family stuff to do. You up for it?”

“Sure. And I have an idea: we can go and try and find my parents. I have some ideas and would love to have my friends along,” Harley said. “Plus, I can show you all about how I lived as a Muggle.”

“Yes, that would be great. ...Hey, um...are we okay? You know, after what I did at the station?” he asked, sounding unsure.

He meant the kiss. “Of course. And Fred...if you ever want to do that again, you can. I would not be mad.” She felt a violent blush spreading on her cheeks and she hoped that her mother wasn’t looking or listening. This was really not her territory. This must be her birth mother’s witty and brave influence coming out.

Fred made a few stuttering remarks before they hung up, Harley’s fair face red as a tomato. She felt utterly out of place and hoped that things wouldn’t be too awkward on Monday. She finally had friends, she didn’t want to ruin that and be the dark, creepy outcast once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! xoxo


	5. Questions For The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and the Weasley boys visit Harley over the summer holiday, but it is anything but happy as Harley is confronted by school bullies and finds out who at least one of her parents were...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter sooner than I thought I'd have it up! Enjoy!

Harley had never had friends. What did she do? Should she change the way she dressed? Feeling at a disadvantage was something she was not fond of, and it had been happening all too much lately.

She finally looked into her mirror, glanced down at her bed with her wand case, and heard that little voice we all have in our minds say, “ _ You are a talented witch. These trivial Muggle matters are far beyond you. _ ”

Since she did want to go and make a few official rounds concerning her parentage, she made sure to look a bit presentable, but she was not prepared for when her friends arrived at her doorstep, driving another one of Mr. Weasley’s bewitched cars: this one was able to accommodate multiple passengers yet still look like a typical four-door sedan. He apparently was able to obtain them when the Ministry of Magic had discarded them from one of his department’s investigations.

They all looked pleased with themselves at how they had arrived.

“Ginny wasn’t allowed to come,” Ron said. “And boy did she and Mum have a row!”

“How are you driving?” Harley asked George. “You only turned fifteen in April!”

“I nicked this from Dad’s bag last year.” He held out a piece of parchment that he could Transfigure into a legal driver’s licence. “I did the Transfiguring at school, so it wasn’t considered underage magic!”

Harley chuckled. “If we get in trouble, I knew nothing about this.”

“So, what is Muggle high school like?” Hermione asked. It looked as if she had been wondering that for a while.

“I would not know. I got expelled in my last year of primary school,” Harley replied. “But that was Hell on Earth, in case you were wondering.”

“This is going to be interesting, being Muggles for a day,” Ron said to Hermione and Harley. “You two are going to have to make sure we don’t out ourselves.”

Harley noticed that Fred was staring at her. “Are you carsick or something?” She asked him.

“Huh. Oh, nothing--I mean, I’m fine,” he stammered. His eyes raked over her as if he had never seen a living teen girl before. She wore a loose black batwing shirt and black leggings. Nothing special. What was he staring at?

“We can probably walk most places if you lot really want to experience a Muggle summer,” Harley said.

“You know, Harry only lives a few towns over,” Ron said.

Harley resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She felt that, while Harry was responsible for a few great deeds, he was not exactly idol material. After a year of him at Hogwarts, she was glad for a summer of having to not hear his name. He was a nice kid, but the Wizarding community was a little too Harry-happy, in her opinion.

Harley walked down her street, trying to see it as a pureblood wizard might. “The Muggle world is very dull, by the way,” she said. “All my life I wished for a way out of it.”

“So did I,” Hermione said. “And I live in London...which is much more exciting than here.”

“So...what do Muggles even do all day? Dad makes them sound fascinating, but to be honest this looks so dull, I want to set off a few Dungbombs,” Fred said.

Harley smirked, leading them into town. The day was nice and cool, a summer breeze whipping her black hair from her face. She’d not felt this good in years, and it was about to come tumbling down as they turned a corner by the community swimming pool.

“Well, if it isn’t Snake Girl,” they all heard a girl’s voice say. “Come home after a year at the girls’ reformatory?”

Carol. Bloody Carol. Harley had nearly forgotten about her. She was wearing naught but her extremely tiny bikini and a sarong around her waist, looking at Harley like Harley was a bug she had spotted on her new shoes.

“Who the Hell are you?” Fred asked Carol. “Don’t talk to her like that!”

Carol ignored him, as she ignored everyone she deemed beneath her (until she decided she wanted to emotionally torture them). She was looking at Harley. “So, where did Mummy have to send you after you did that freakish thing to my skin? A madhouse that has summer vacation?” She glanced at Harley’s clothes. “I see it didn’t improve your taste. Still look like you came straight out of the coffin.”

Harley breathed deeply, wishing she’d asked Professor Snape how to make a calming potion. She’d yet found a concoction on her own that didn’t make the taker fall asleep.

“Aw, what’s the matter, you freak? Didn’t they teach you how to smile or laugh at whatever Hellhole you went to?” Carol continued. “Always were an arsehole, with your attitude and all that black. Like you were making a statement. All you did was make us all hate you.”

Harley didn’t need her wand to use her magic when she was angry, and she could feel it bubbling to the surface, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Whoa, Harley, don’t,” Fred said, and she felt his hand enclose over her fist. “She’s not worth getting in trouble with the Ministry over.”

Carol gave a bright, evil smile. “Now, listen to Red over here. What is this: your Carrot Top security brigade?”

“Hey!” Hermione snapped. “Leave them all alone! Why are people like you always so mean?”

Carol gave Hermione a glare. “And is this your prison cellmate?”

“You are going to need a hospital bed mate when I’m done with you,” Harley growled, reaching into her purse for her wand.

Fred grabbed her again. “She’s just a bully, Harley. Don’t do this.”

Harley took a breath, trying to calm herself. Her rage burned hot and bright, just as it did when she had decided to brew the snakeskin potion. She was sick of being made fun of, being made to feel as if she was a freak, when all she wanted was to be left alone to be herself.

Harley released her grip on her wand, and she felt Fred sigh with relief. As soon as he let her go, Harley did something she had never done before: swinging like a boxer she landed a punch across Carol’s face, making her mouth bleed.

“Bloody Hell!” Ron cried.

“‘Bloody’ being the operative word: let’s go!” The lot of them dashed away, and sometime along their run, Harley started to laugh. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so good.

They finally slowed down when Hermione got a stitch in her side and Harley stopped laughing. They were all winded, but it was a good feeling.

“That--was--brilliant,” George panted.

“Not if she gets picked up by Muggle policemen,” Hermione said, worried.

Harley rolled her eyes. “It was one hit. I would barely get a citation. Wow...that felt quite good, you know?”

“Man, that felt good to  _ watch _ !” Ron said.

“That was well deserved, if she always acted like that when you were at school with her,” Fred said. “She made Draco Malfoy look like a saint.”

They stood where they were, near the shopping center, when Hermione and Ron went off to get something to drink.

“What is that?” George asked, pointing to a glaring yellow sign.

Harley scoffed. “You’ve never been to a McDonald’s before? Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

“I’m gonna go see. Coming?” He asked them.

Fred shook his head. “No thanks. Smells right nasty from here.”

Harley waved him on and sat down on a bench with Fred. “Do you know I have never smiled so much in my life as I have since meeting you lot?” She asked.

Fred looked down at her with an expression that was unusually sombre. “That actually makes me really sad. Everyone, but especially you, deserve to smile every day.”

Harley wanted to say something, but, no words would come forth. Before she knew what was happening, Fred had leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers. Harley went rigid with shock, but after a moment she allowed her body to relax into his and just let the kiss happen. Her first kiss. Unlike other girls, she had never sat and daydreamed about what it would be like. She had not watched teen films and TV programmes, studying kissing techniques. Now that it was happening to her, she wished that she had been one of those girls, because she felt as if she was doing it all wrong.

Fred pulled away and smiled down at her, blushing as furiously as she was.

“I hope that was okay,” he said quietly, looking down at her.

She managed a nod, feeling as if she was about to suffer heart failure. “It was okay,” she said, her voice softer than even she had ever heard it before.

“I wanted to do that since last August,” he said.

“I don’t know how to respond, exactly. That was...I’m not…”

Fred put his hand over hers. “Did you like it?” She nodded. “That’s all that matters right now.” He looked up and saw the other three walking towards them, holding extremely large sodas.

“Man, that place is a bloody madhouse,” Ron commented.

“I could have warned you,” Harley said, standing up.

“So, what did you have in mind about finding your birth parents?” George asked around his straw.

“Well, I have the address of the orphanage from where I was adopted. They might have some ideas, and also, if the Charm was lifted when the Ministry found out about me, there might be bewitched things hanging around the place that my parents never received when they adopted me. If the Charm was removed from me, it would be removed from the stuff as well,” Harley explained.

“What makes you think there are things there?” Hermione asked.

“Because of the fact that I don’t have a birth certificate, nor do I have anything else that they must have found when they found me in my old home. They claimed that a neighbor called the police when they heard me crying through a window. After my parents were murdered, the Charm was so strong no one found me till I was screaming my lungs out. There had to have been things of mine that were Concealed,” Harley continued, leading them down the street.

There was a home for orphaned children in her small neighbourhood, a place she lived for two and a half months when she was only three, before the Torrances came to get her. She had no recollections of the place herself, but charity functions for the place appeared often on the local news.

It was a grey, dreary building. It was dreary even for Harley, who, by nature, was a fairly dark and sombre girl.

They walked into the building, waiting for the receptionist to finish with a phone call. The Weasleys were looking around at all the Muggle inventions with interest, especially the large computer on the desk.

“May I help you?” The receptionist looked wary at a bunch of teens standing at the desk.

“I do hope so. My name is Harley Torrance. I was adopted here in 1981, after I had been found in my home after my birth parents were killed. I am working on a project for the upcoming school year about my family tree, but my adoptive parents don’t seem to have gotten all of my things from this institution from when I was here. May I ask you to possibly go and look to see if any of my things happen to have been left behind?”

Harley knew her voice was cold, uneffected. If she could change that, be a more sympathetic character, it would help, but it didn’t seem to be in her nature. She wished it was, but her heritage apparently contained a very cold individual who had passed on his or her attitude to her.

The woman asked Harley to write down her information and then waddled off to see if there was anything left behind by mistake. They all waited in a heavy and uncharacteristic silence until Hermione asked, “What will be worse? You find nothing, or find out that your father might be in league with Voldemort?”

“Don’t say his name,” Ron hissed, scared.

“Voldemort,” Harley replied, ignoring Ron. “I’d rather have no new information than know that I have Dark blood in my veins. But if I’m being honest, I think my biggest fear is that my father could have  _ been  _ Voldemort.”

That statement brought a hush over the group.

A few minutes later the woman returned with a small box in her hands. After hurriedly signing for it, the group went to the park nearby to open it. Harley hoped there wasn’t anything evil trapped in there, because she wasn’t allowed to use magic to subdue it.

Opening it up, she saw a black stuffed teddy bear, what looked like a broken chemistry set, some baby clothes with initials “HEP” stitched on them, a baby album with wizard photos that moved, and a small file with her medical records and...a birth certificate.

“Here we go,” she said, her voice a whisper, as she opened the folder. The birth certificate was right on top. She read it once. Then twice. Then a third time, because she did not believe what she was seeing.

“Harley?” Fred asked. “What is it?”

“My name is Harley Eileen Potter,” she said in a monotonous voice. “I was born on Halloween, 1978, and my parents were James and Lily Potter.” She looked up, her eyes blank. “I am Harry’s sister.”

“No, no that’s not right,” Hermione said, her analytical mind already working out the issue at hand. “It  _ can’t  _ be. James Potter was a Gryffindor like Harry, and he’s dead. The Hat told you that your father was alive and a Slytherin. So that means you’re Harry’s half-sister. Your real father is somewhere out there still.”

Harley stared at the paper. At her name. At what this meant, what it could mean. “My mum is Harry’s mum,” she muttered. “How could Dumbledore not have known about me?”

“So...did your mum Charm you because of Voldemort looking for them, or because she didn’t want James finding out that you weren’t his biologically?” Hermione asked.

“Or because I am  _ part  _ of Voldemort? ...I don’t know.” Harley was silent for a moment. “I thought that getting information would answer my questions, not give me more of them that only the dead can answer.”

She traced the name of her real mother with her fingertips. Lily Evans Potter. Where did her own name come from?  How did her mother come to cheat on her husband to have her? Was that even what happened?

“Let’s look at the photos,” Fred suggested, taking her from her reverie.

The photos were the crucial baby moments her adoptive parents had missed. First smile, first crawl, first steps. There were two different types of handwriting below most of the photos, and it was easy to tell which one was Lily and which was James.

_ “She was late with her first smile. Reminds me of your old mate, Lily, that creepy git.” _

_ “You don’t put that in a baby book, James! And he was not creepy!” _

Harley laughed, seeing herself smiling, wisps of black hair on her head and her hands clapping just a little. And “that creepy git” could very well be her father.

“Weren’t you a darling?” Fred joked, nudging her.

The next pages were enrapturing for Harley, seeing her mother holding her, her long white gown being prepared for baptism. Her godfather was holding her in another photo, a tall man with a scarred face. There was one that showed her scowling down at a little newborn baby.

_ “Harley doesn’t look happy with her baby brother,” _ James had written.

_ “She will be, once she gets used to him. Don’t they look cute?!” _ Lily wrote.

Ron laughed at the photo. “Baby Harry! Dude, I’m putting this on the bulletin board in the common room with your names under it.”

Harley smacked Ron on the head. “Do it and I kill you.”

The album finished with a photo of her standing over a fake chemistry set. Only Lily had written the caption,  _ “I bought her an early birthday gift. The next Potions Master at Hogwarts? I think so! She is already doing magic and she’s not even three! Slughorn will have a field day with her if he is still teaching when she gets there.” _

She realised that her mother and stepfather had been murdered by Voldemort on her third birthday. Clenching her fists around the book so hard her knuckles turned white, she slammed it shut. This hurt more than she had expected, and only raised more questions for her. That was her mum, holding her. Her smiling, happy mum. Her dead mum. That had been easier to digest when the woman was faceless and nameless.

“She looks like you. Your skin, your smile. It’s just like hers,” Fred said quietly, his hand on her back.

Harley nodded. While she didn’t possess her mother’s green eyes or vibrant red hair, she had her heart-shaped face, porcelain skin, and wide, bright smile. She didn’t show off her smile as much as Lily had, but it was exactly the same.

“So...now we know that your father has black hair and black eyes,” Fred continued. “And, even better, you’ve got a brother! Wait till we tell Harry!”

“Wait till you tell Hogwarts,” Hermione commented. “Dumbledore will be thrilled. However…”

“However,” Ron continued where she left off, “your days of being Snape’s teacher’s pet are long gone. You’ll finally be treated like the rest of us Gryffindors!”

Harley shook her head. This was all happening too fast. She was happy to have found some living family, but the questions and doubts this cast were crazy. The worst thing, for her, was would she shame Lily’s memory by revealing that Lily had cheated on James? She’d hate to do that to her mother, but there was no way to keep quiet about it.

They all walked to a nearby diner to have lunch and talk. In the bright, loud restaurant, there was a TV news show blaring about a prison escapee.

“Sirius Black, wanted for over a dozen murders twelve years ago, is still on the loose today. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. If you have any information about his whereabouts, contact…”

Harley shook her head. “No bloody security. I think our school is better protected than these prisons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I wanted Harley to have to wonder just how dark she might really be, and wouldn't the child of the Dark Lord put a dent in the lives of everyone at Hogwarts?  
> Plus, how cute is Harley with Fred? ;)


	6. Daddy Has Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley is forced to reveal her birth mother's identity to her professors, and gets some ominous warnings from McGonagall and Snape about her real father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Thanks for sticking with the story so far, and if you're a new reader, thanks for reading till this point! Here we see if Severus Snape really starts to treat Harley like all the other Gryffindors, and address her fears that she might be the daughter of the Dark Lord.

Harley spent the rest of her holiday holed up in her basement, trying to make heads or tails of the new information she’d gotten.

Her mum could have hidden her for three reasons: one, she didn’t want James to know she’d been unfaithful. Two, Harley’s father was really in league with Voldemort and she had changed her parentage to protect her. Three, her father was Voldemort, which would explain how she was so drawn to the Dark Arts. She hoped it was the first choice, because she wanted to know her father, if he was in fact still alive as the Hat had said.

Before term began, Harley received her owl with the list of things she’d need to pick up at Diagon Alley. Among the list was a shiny red badge with the letter “P” on it. Harley perused the letter and found that she had been approved to be a prefect! After only attending Hogwarts for one year!

“Your letter of recommendation from Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Snape were outstanding, and we are happy to have you assisting your fellow Gryffindors,” Dumbledore wrote. The list of prefect duties followed, and then there was another note. “As you know, fifth years are required to take their OWLs (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). While all your teachers feel that you are capable of passing every class, if you feel any hesitance in taking them so soon, come speak with me and we can settle the matter privately with the professors.”

OWLs. She’d heard the twins grumbling about them, but hadn’t realised what they were all about. What would happen if she couldn’t pass? Could she have her wand snapped and her powers revoked?

Even worse, would studying for OWLs and being a prefect interfere with her search for her father? If need be, she could get help or bow out till a later date, but she felt that her grades at Hogwarts were more important than even her parentage.

She told her parents she was a prefect, but the joy they had meant very little to her. These were not her parents, despite the fact that they raised her. They had been wonderful, but it was like looking at two strangers now that she knew what she knew. Two strangers who were vaguely fearful when they were around her.

She packed her trunk and went to King’s Cross station on September first, and she saw that her friends were all waiting for her. She blanched, realising that she now had to tell Harry that she was his sister. This was going to be interesting.

“Harley, I’m glad you’re here,” Harry said. “These guys are going crazy over this big news you have for me. Hopefully it’s good, because the whole community is worried about that escaped wizard, and I blew my aunt Marge up and almost got thrown in jail myself.”

“What escaped wizard?” She asked.

“Sirius Black. The guy on the news,” Ron said. “He broke out of a wizard prison, and they’re advertising it on Muggle news in case anyone spots him.”

“Huh. Even magical prisons are unreliable,” Harley commented. “Come on, let’s get on the Express and then I will tell you what I found out, Harry. I’m sure it is a better piece of news than you blowing your aunt up or escaped murderers.”

Settled on the Hogwart’s Express, Fred and George said they’d save Harley a seat in their car after she was done talking with Harry.

“So...I found out who my mum and stepfather were,” she said.

“Stepfather? Not your real father?” Harry asked.

She shook her head. “No. For one reason or another, my mum told my stepfather he was my biological father. I am working to find out why, exactly.”

“Then who’s your mum?” Harry asked.

“If you would quit interrupting me, Potter, I will tell you,” Harley said, tight-lipped. “I am your half sister. Your mum was my mum.”

Harry stared at her, round-eyed behind his equally round glasses. “Are you… I mean, you are… We’re _related_?”

“Indeed,” she said.

“My mother cheated on my father?” Harry looked positively aghast.

Harley shook her head. “Perhaps not. When were they married?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied.

“Then it might have been right before, or during a break they could have taken. There are many possibilities, and this is just one of them.” She stood up. “Now, I have to go change into my robes. See you three in the Great Hall.” As she left, Hermione’s new cat was once again trying to attack Ron’s old rat, Scabbers. She hated the little thing, as it had bitten her twice, and she hoped Crookshanks would eat it.

As a rule, she had to pop into the prefects’ car. Percy, who was Head Boy, was there, as was the other prefects, none of whom she knew well, even her own housemate. After touring the cars with Percy, she was glad to get out of there, as they all looked at her as if she were a bug.

“How’d he take it?” Fred asked when she sat down next to him.

“Worried his mum cheated on his apparently saintly father,” she replied. “I doubt we’ll have much sibling bonding. We are not very alike.”

“Truthfully, I thought you’d be a Slytherin when we met on the train,” Lee said. “You’re not very like any of us.”

“And isn’t that a good thing,” she said blandly as she took out her robes to change, ignoring him for the rest of the ride, only looking up from the book she’d brought when there was a commotion on another car.

They arrived at Hogwarts and boarded the carriages to the school, where everyone assembled in the Great Hall. She noticed that her newly acquired little brother was looking the worse for wear.

“Did you hear what happened on our car?” Hermione asked once everyone had sat down. “There was an Azkaban guard--a Dementor--on the train! Harry fainted, but the new professor for Defence Against The Dark Arts saved him.”

While they rehashed the Dementor attack, Harley looked at the main table to see the new DADA professor. He was a sallow, scarred man with sandy hair and a moustache. He looked quite sickly himself. He also looked vaguely familiar. She noticed Professor Snape had seated himself as far away from the new guy as possible, and they glared at each other every so often.

Dumbledore stood, made his yearly speech, and then the Sorting Hat came out for the first years. It seemed like a million years had gone by before Dumbledore introduced the new professor as Remus Lupin. Harley hoped the man was more competent than Lockhart had been, but if he had defended Harry against a Dementor, he had to be at least a modicum better.

Once the dinner was over, Harley excused herself and went to where she knew Dumbledore’s office was. She had no idea how to get in, so she knocked at the gargoyle a few times until Professor Snape stood behind her.

“Do you need something, Miss Torrance?”

“Hello, Professor. I had needed to speak with the headmaster about something vaguely important, and would like to do so before I have classes and OWLs to study for,” she said.

“All right. Come with me. I need to receive my new student list from him. Lemon drop.”

“His password is ‘ _lemon drop_ ’?” she asked, suppressing laughter.

Snape just gave her a look that said, “ _Do you see what I have to deal with,_ ” as he lead her up the stairs to the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore was seated at a vast desk, sorting parchment. “Severus, here is your list of first years and class schedules,” he said without looking up. A piece of parchment went straight towards the professor, who snatched it out of the air. “And I looked over your improved potion recipe for Remus. Thank you for agreeing to brew it every month.”

“I am not alone, Albus, if you’d look up,” Snape said dryly.

The old wizard looked up and smiled, “Harley Torrance! Lovely to see you. Did you need something, dear?”

She nodded. “Not ‘need’, exactly. I found information about my birth mother, and thought that it might be of interest to you.”

“Sit down, please,” Albus said, gesturing to a guest chair.

“Allow me to take my leave. This is a personal matter,” Snape said, turning to go, but Dumbledore called him back.

“Students’ lives, particularly such a touchy subject, should be known by the professors. Miss Torrance, do you mind if Professor Snape stays? I will have to tell your Head of House as well.”

Harley said, “I don’t mind, but would like for this information to be kept quiet to the other students. My...friends...were told because I believe I can trust them, but I feel that the entire student body knowing would lead to bullying not just for myself, but for Potter as well.”

“What does this have to do with _him_?” Snape asked.

“Everything. My mother was Lily Evans. My stepfather was James Potter. My mother had me two years before Harry, and James never knew I wasn’t his child, as far as I can tell,” Harley revealed.

She looked between the two professors, gauging their reactions. Dumbledore was nodding, as if he had expected this news all along. Snape, who was already quite naturally pale, went positively white.

“I discovered that my things that went to the orphanage I was at were Charmed as well, and when the Charm was lifted from me, it was also lifted from them. I found my birth certificate, medical records, and a wizarding photo album of my first three years alive. She reached into her bag and pulled out the file and the album, handing them to Dumbledore.

He read the papers, smiling. “Well, this is no great surprise. It explains your excellence: Lily was a fantastic witch.” He turned his attention to the photos, checking them with a Wizarding Microglass for authenticity. He came upon one and laughed, removing it from the album and handing it to Professor Snape, who had barely breathed since Harley’s announcement.

“Look here, Severus: she’s been at it since she was a toddler.”

Harley saw that it was the photo of her performing magic with the Muggle chemistry set. Snape’s expression didn’t change, and why would it? She was sure many students showed progress at a young age, and he would really not care much for her now, knowing she was Harry’s sister. She didn’t know why there was no love lost between the teacher and her brother, but she did know it was now going to make Potions a living nightmare for her.

Snape gathered his robes and stood up. “I really must take my leave now. Oh, by the way, these Dementors you have protecting the school: I think it’s a bad idea. While Black is a dangerous and reckless criminal, he is not worth a student or staff member accidentally getting their soul sucked out.”

“What?” Harley asked. “That’s what a Dementor’s Kiss is?”

Snape gave a grave look. “Indeed. They make you relive your worst memory over and over before they suck your soul out. A most fitting punishment for Azkaban residents like Black, but not for children. In any case...goodnight, Miss Torrance. Goodnight, Albus.”

After he left, Dumbledore sighed. “I don’t like these Dementors, either. I hope they do not interfere with things too much. In any case, I have made a copy of your birth certificate and medical records for our student records. Enjoy your fifth year.” He handed her back her things.

She went to get up, but made herself ask, “Sir...you said it came as no surprise that my mother was Lily Evans. Why?”

“I long suspected who your parents were the moment I laid eyes on you,” he replied.

“Well, would you be willing to tell me who my father is?” Harley wondered.

Dumbledore gave her a patronising look. “My dear, you can’t expect me to give out such information. You must go and seek it out one way or another. Only then will the truth be satisfying for you.”

 _Well, that was helpful, you batty old bastard_ , Harley thought as she went back to the Gryffindor common room. Fred and George were swapping textbooks, Ron was showing Harry a Quidditch magazine, and Hermione was reading.

“Well, it has begun,” Harley said, sitting down next to Hermione. “Dumbledore and Snape know who my mum is. By tomorrow, all the staff will.” She turned to Harry. “If I begin losing points in Potions, I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t you think _Snape_ would be the one to blame?” Harry shot back. “He’s the one who hates me when I never did anything wrong!”

Ignoring him, she told them what Dumbledore told her, and Hermione said, “You can ask McGonagall. She taught here for years so she might know who your father is.”

“Oh, and before Dumbledore realised I was in the room, he mentioned that Professor Snape has a potion recipe that he has to brew for Professor Lupin once a month. I _knew_ the man looked a bit peaky,” Harley said. _He also looks so damned familiar…_

 

****

 

OWL year was not a joke. Like SATs for Muggles in America, OWLs determined what you would do with your life once you graduated, and it also determined what classes you took in your sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts.

Their first class was Transfiguration with McGonagall. Harley knew that as long as she got decent grades on her OWLs, she’d keep taking this class. There was a lot to learn here before she graduated, and she liked the way McGonagall taught.

Once class had ended, Harley asked to stay behind to talk, which the professor agreed to.

“I assume that this is about your revelation over summer holidays?” She said. “Lily was a wonderful student, and a genuinely good person.”

“It is. Professor, the headmaster told me that he wants me to discover who my real father is for myself. With all due respect, I don’t care if someone carves it into my flesh, there are things I need to know, and this is one of them. Is there anything you can tell me about my real father? His name, for instance?”

McGonagall fixed her with a piercing stare only she was capable of. “Miss Torrance, while I am sure I know who your father is, I am not about to give you information you might not be ready for. If I am being completely honest with you, you might be better off not knowing.

“You are very much like your father, in many ways. And some of those ways should not be encouraged. Stay in your mother’s light. Do not allow any negative influences in your life. While your father has committed no real crime, I cannot in good faith say he is a good man. He is damaged, and his ideals were not your mother’s. My advice is to not seek out the unknown.”

That was not advice Harley planned on taking. McGonagall’s words only worried her more, regarding her parentage. She waited all day for a chance to ask the only other person at this school she thought she could get a straight answer out of: Snape. He was crass and cruel, but he was also blunt, and that was what she needed.

They had double Potions as the last class, where Snape glared at many of the students--Lee Jordan and the giggly Alicia Spinnet--as he made his first day speech about OWLs.

“I expect every student here to manage an ‘Acceptable’ on their Potions OWL. However, if you also plan to take your NEWTs for this class in your seventh year, you must attain an ‘Outstanding’ grade on your OWL. The world outside of Hogwarts is no place for abysmal potioneers, and neither is my classroom. Those who score below an ‘O’ will not be allowed to continue this class in sixth year.”

He gave them their assignment, flicked his wand so that the directions appeared on the board and then made his slow rounds around the classroom.

“Miss Johnson, you are stirring too fast … Mr. Montague, does that look like nearly enough salamander blood? … Spinnet, you will be lucky if you receive a ‘D’ for whatever that is in your cauldron.”

Harley held in a sigh as the professor passed by her cauldron. She knew he had sabotaged Harry’s potions before out of spite, or found some miniscule problem to remove points from him, so she was prepared to have her once favourite teacher show his displeasure towards her for the first time.

“Miss Torrance, excellent. Montague, Spinnet, you should think about having her tutor you both...as if there’s any hope for either of you in this class,” he drawled, looking into her cauldron. “By far the best I have seen on the first day. Five points to Gryffindor. At least one of you is competent.”

Hiding her shock, she said, “Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Snape assigned homework, and the Gryffindors and Slytherins filed out, many of them giving nasty looks towards Harley, who was hanging back. This had been the last class for the professor as well as the students.

“Sir? May I speak with you?” Harley asked.

She could have sworn there was panic in those dark eyes for a moment, but his calm look was back so quickly she must have imagined it. “Yes, Miss Torrance?”

“You were there last night, with Dumbledore. I was wondering if you had any information about my birth father? Dumbledore wants me to figure it out on my own, and McGonagall blatantly told me I’d be better off not knowing him. Have you anything more positive to add to that?” She asked.

He glanced down at his desk. “McGonagall said your father wasn’t a good man?”

“Pretty much, yes, sir. I did not say as much to her, but I am concerned myself. The Sorting Hat told me my father was a Slytherin, and what with the Charm put on me...I was half afraid that my father might be Voldemort.”

Professor Snape looked up at her and she was surprised to see an amused smirk on his usually grim face. He sighed, using her given name for the first time. “Harley...I agree with McGonagall. Your father was not a good person. He still is not. He’s spiteful, vindictive, and emotionally stunted. He’s always been a black sheep, and he always will be. Despite his very best intentions...I could not find one nice word to say about him. However, he is _not_ the Dark Lord!” He stood up. “Your mother, however, she is the person I told you last year that you reminded me of. A bright, beautiful girl with an even brighter future.”

“Funny. McGonagall said all she saw in me was my father,” Harley said.

He looked her up and down. “On the surface, indeed you are very much like him. He has few good points, but those he does you seem to possess. Do not look at your parents and think you need to be like either of them. Take these years at Hogwarts to find out who _you_ are.”

What a speech, especially coming from Snape.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the candour,” she said.

“My offer from last year still stands. If you need to talk, about anything, my office door is always open to you. I realise McGonagall is your Head of House, but I also know there are some areas you might not want your Head interfering with. Despite what you hear from your Housemates, I am not such a bad listener.”

“I will. Thank you. See you on Wednesday, Professor.” Harley gave a little wave and went up to the common room, feeling a bit silly at thinking she might be the daughter of the Dark Lord. She had little new information to go on, but felt strangely buoyed up by her professor’s words. Unlike McGonagall, he saw more good in her than she saw in herself.

The common room was awash with laughter when she got there and she pulled Fred aside, “Have they all gone mad?”

“Wait till you hear about Lupin’s class. They did boggarts. I can’t wait for it tomorrow,” he said.

Harley knew what a boggart was, and how to banish them. She’d read about them in a few extra books she’d picked up at Flourish & Blotts that summer. What had caused the hilarity had been Neville’s boggart. Apparently, his biggest fear was Professor Snape, and when he had used the _‘riddikulus’_ charm, Snape had worn his grandmother’s clothes. Harley was apparently the only Gryffindor who didn’t find this absolutely hilarious.

What she was thinking about was the comment Hermione made: that the professor’s boggart turned into the full moon…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the story! There won't be much Sirius Black till later chapters, but you'll see more of Remus Lupin next chapter.  
> I should note now, I am NOT a Marauders fan. I like Lupin, and tried really hard to get his character right. But you won't find much love for Sirius or James in this fic. Just a warning so I won't be accosted by readers who might be offended later on.  
> As always, thanks for reading and please leave kudos and comments! xoxo


	7. Godfathers, Werewolves, And Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley comes to find that using Dark spells on her bullies just might be hereditary. Will the new DADA professor be of any use in her search for her father? And when Sirius Black tries to attack Harry, Harley finds that she shares her wand wood and core with a particular professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Thanks for still reading this little tale of mine.
> 
> As promised, more Remus Lupin. I really like his character and you'll be seeing a lot more of him in the future.
> 
> I wanted Harley to face typical adversity (such as Snape did from James Potter when he was a student, as we know from canon), and in this chapter you can see how her version of fighting back against bullies can be misconstrued as evil.
> 
> Enjoy!

Defence Against the Dark Arts should have been her favourite class, but her last professor had been terrible. She hoped that this Lupin was more competent as the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into class on Tuesday.

“Your OWLs are very serious for many of you,” he began as class settled down. “We will not be doing boggarts like the third and fourth years. Those will come later. We will be doing Patronus Charms. Who knows what a Patronus is?”

Harley raised her hand, and she said the professor’s eyes widen as he said, “Your name, miss?”

_ Why is he staring at me like that?  _ “Harley Torrance, sir. A Patronus is a protection charm that can drive away many dark creatures, including Dementors and vampires,” she said.

“Very good. We will attempt casting a Patronus Charm today, though I advise you all not to expect very much on your first day.”

After a bit more information, he lined all the students up and had them try to cast a Patronus one by one. Nearly every student was only able to produce a silvery wisp. Harley and two others--Alicia Spinnet and the Slytherin she only knew as Montague--could not manage even that.

“Brought down to the same level as us mere mortals, eh, Torrance?” Alicia asked with a smirk as class ended.

“What are you talking about?” Harley asked. She and Alicia were not very close, despite sharing a dorm room. Previously, she and the Quidditch player had barely exchanged two words, excluding the duel in fourth year.

“‘The best I’ve seen on the first day’. ‘You should have Miss Torrance tutor you’,” she mocked in Snape’s voice. “Always so smug, being the best. Now you’re no better than me.”

Harley gave Alicia a long, level look, and said, “I am not better than you because of my grades. I am better than you because I am not a snide little bitch.”

At lunch, Harley let out a relieved sigh and sat next to Fred, who was already eating. “This day is endless and it isn’t over yet. I was so embarrassed in Lupin’s class.”

“Why? I barely had a bit of smoke come from my wand,” Fred said.

“You did not hear how Spinnet talked to me. ...I wish it were Potions day. I need a subject I’m good at. Not that I do not like Ancient Runes.” That was her next subject.

Fred laughed. “You’re the only person I know who wishes for extra classes with Snape.” He leaned down and kissed her temple affectionately, the first time he had done so at Hogwarts. She noticed a few classmates, including Harry and Alicia, staring incredulously.

_ Good. Let them all look _ .

The next day was their first Hogsmeade trip. Harley had been unable to go in fourth year because her parents had not signed her permission slip. They had not signed it this year either, but McGonagall allowed her to go anyway, saying there was a small exception for her case. Harry’s aunt and uncle--who were Harley’s family as well, she realised--had refused to sign his form, so he was not allowed to go. However, on the way to Hogsmeade, Fred revealed that he and George had given Harry a way to get there anyway.

“You’re terrible!” Harley hissed. “You will all get in trouble if they find out.”

“They won’t,” Fred assured her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

“I’ll take your word for it. By the by, give me no more details. The less I know the better. Let me keep thinking you’re on the straight and narrow, especially since you keep forgetting that I am a prefect now..”

He scoffed, “If I was on the straight and narrow, I wouldn’t be so dashing, now would I?”

“Git.”

Harley’s first time at Hogsmeade was much more fun than she had thought it would be. Fred and George pushed her along into Zonko’s Joke Shop, where they showed her all the things they planned to use this year.

“Guys, prefect, remember?” Harley gestured to her badge. “I’m out of here. What I do not see, I cannot report. Meet in the little pub over there?” She walked out of the store, exploring other parts of the town.

She saw a store called J. Pippin’s Potions and stepped inside, intent on getting some pretty flasks or extra ingredients so she didn’t need to use her professor’s stores for every homework project. Unfortunately, the store seemed to be run by a barely average potioneer. They specialised in love potions and selling ornamental objects. The ingredients they did sell looked awful. She would have been better off at the herb shop across the avenue.

Harley bought some flasks from the elderly proprietor and noticed a sign at the register: “Closing in two years.” Who on Earth announced they were closing two years in advance?

In the Three Broomsticks, Fred and George pointed out where Harry was hiding with Ron and Hermione in his Invisibility Cloak.

“How did he get one of those?” Harley asked, wondering if she should confiscate it.

“His father’s, apparently,” Fred replied.

Laden with sweets from Honeyduke’s and her few purchases from the potion shop, Harley went back to Hogwarts in semi good spirits, only dampened when she saw the Dementors. She hoped they’d catch Black soon, because those things gave her the creeps.

On her way into the school, she heard her name being called. Turning, she saw Professor Snape walking up to her.

“I was wondering if you might be able to give me some assistance,” he said. “I have a new potion I want to teach next week, and I am afraid I would need to go into the Muggle world to get what I require for it. I was wondering if you might be able to procure the items for me by sending an owl to your parents?”

“Possibly. What do you need, sir?” Harley asked.

“Muggle photographs. At least thirty, and they have to be from a camera: Polaroid or from a disposable film cell, not a book or magazine. Do you think they can assist?” He asked.

“Sure. There are tons of Muggle photo albums at home. I don’t think my mother would mind parting with one of them for a little while. I will owl her immediately, Professor.”

“Thank you, Miss Torrance. I’ll award your House five points for your willingness to assist.” With that he was gone as quick as he’d come.

In the Great Hall, where the counters were for the House Points, Harley heard that little brat Malfoy exclaim, “ _ More _ points for Gryffindor? Are they bewitching the counter?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so nasty you’d get more points for Slytherin,” Harry shot back.

Malfoy stood and stalked over to where Ron, Harry, and Hermione were sitting for dinner, ready to reach into his pocket for his wand.

Harley got there even before Percy did and grabbed Malfoy’s wrist. “Malfoy, Potter, stop right now or you’ll both get detention. I do not give warnings twice.” She let him go and made sure he was back at his own table before she sat down with the other Gryffindors. Harry, stop letting him get to you. He is not worth your notice. He is a bully and nothing more.”

“How  _ are  _ we getting these random points, though?” Hermione asked.

“I got five a few moments ago,” Harley admitted, to which Alicia responded with a scoff.

“What do they do, reward you for just walking into the doors?” She spat.

Harley sat silently, not wanting to be drawn into a fight. Her hands itched to get her wand out and curse Spinnet, but she refused to sink to her level unless Spinnet attacked first.

Alicia went on, “You show up out of nowhere and have every teacher eating out of your hand. That’s very suspicious if you ask me.”

“There is nothing suspicious about her!” Fred cried.

“Don’t defend me,” Harley scolded. “I can take care of myself. Just like Malfoy, this isn’t worth my time or anger.”

She felt eyes on her, and when she turned she saw both Snape and Lupin watching the table intently.

 

****

 

Her mother sent her an entire photo album, mostly pictures of her, but Harley figured they’d have to do as she excused herself from breakfast to get to the professor’s office before classes began.

“Come in,” he called when she knocked.

“Mother sent the photos. They might be more than you needed, however. Also,” and here she couldn’t help but smile, “she said that they arrived in perfect condition, so she expects them back the same way.” The thought of her meek Muggle mother taking on Professor Snape was amusing.

“Hand me the book, please.” She handed it over and he quickly leafed through it. “Perfect. These will show motion quite nicely. And your mother need not worry. You can send these back to her this evening.  _ Geminio _ .” He waved his wand over the album and another appeared, right next to  it.

“Wow. When will we be learning that?” Harley asked.

“Seventh year, Charms class,” Snape replied. “You can assure your mother that her photos are in pristine condition.”

“Glad I could help, Professor. See you this afternoon.”

As she exited the dungeon, she heard a taunting voice say, “So this is how you get extra points?” It was Alicia. Lovely. “So, what kind of  _ favours  _ do you do for the professors?”

It took a moment before Harley got her meaning. “That is disgusting, Spinnet! Why can’t you just leave me alone? What have I ever done to you?”

She shrugged. “Your existence annoys me. So, what kind of potion did you give Fred to go out with you?”

“My existence… You think I drugged Fred?” Harley wasn’t sure which statement had hurt her more, and she felt the old rage rising up in her chest. Alicia was just like Carol, only worse because Alicia had a nearly unlimited arsenal of magic she could use against Harley. “ _ I _ do not even know why Fred likes me, but don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever bewitch him into doing something he has no desire to do!”

Alicia advanced on her. “You showed up out of the blue and made everyone love you. You know Dark curses. You look like a Dark witch. I don’t trust you, I don’t like you, and I definitely don’t want you around  _ my  _ House and my friends! Think you’re a big shot, Torrance? I will show you that you’re nothing here.  _ Wingardium leviosa _ !”

Harley’s body lifted and banged into the cold stone wall, rattling the portraits and angering their inhabitants. She hit the floor, the wind knocked out of her. Getting to her feet, she whipped her wand out and shouted a curse, “ _ Sectumsempra _ ”, making Alicia’s mouth start to bleed. Large cuts appeared on her hands as well, and they began to bleed profusely.

“ _ What _ is going on here?” Professor Lupin was rushing towards the girls, his wand out.

“She cursed me, Professor,” Alicia said as she spat blood on the floor, her attitude doing a three-sixty and crocodile tears springing to her eyes. In truth, Harley thought that that  _ was  _ an awful lot of blood compared to the mouse she’d used the spell on when she was thirteen. “Look at me!” She held up her bleeding palms and her mouth was making it hard for her to talk. Harley thought it was a fitting punishment for a girl with such an acid tongue.

“Look at my  _ head _ , you bitch,” Harley growled, showing the professor where her head was bleeding in the back, having hit the corner of a silver picture frame, which was askew.

Lupin touched his wand to Alicia’s mouth and hands, making the blood stop spouting.

“Okay, both of you have detention tonight. Spinnet, I’ll inform McGonagall. Torrance, you’re in my classroom tonight. Now  _ separate _ ,” he ordered. “And ten points each from Gryffindor. This is not the type of behaviour I expect from my old House.”

“Damn!” Harley swore.

“What’s the matter? Lost all the extra points Snape gave you now?” Alicia snapped.

“Do you want to lose another five, Miss Spinnet?” Lupin asked. “You will be fine. I took the curse off. Now, Miss Torrance, let me take you to Madam Pomfrey.”

“No need,” Harley said, barely able to keep her voice conciliatory towards him. “ _ Plaga reparo _ .” She healed her own wound with a simple spell and walked away, rage pulsing in her veins and her face hot with embarrassment.

That evening Harley was dreading going to detention. She was a  _ prefect _ , she was not supposed to get detention. That damned Alicia had drawn her out and she felt like a fool for playing into her trap.

As she entered the DADA classroom, Lupin was at his desk, drinking something from one of Snape’s flasks. The mysterious potion.

“Ah, Harley. Sit down, please. I’d like you to know that this isn’t exactly a detention, per se. I have wanted to speak with you, and this is as good a time as any.”

“So you faked my detention? Is Spinnet’s fake, too?” She asked, taking a seat.

He shook his head. “Oh, no. She’s in trouble, because I know for a fact that she attacked you unprovoked. However, you should not have attacked back.”

Harley resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I will not stand by and be a victim.”

“When I was your age, I watched my friends in Gryffindor bully another student--one of whom was a prefect himself--and I stood by. Why, I don’t know, but I did and I regret it till today. I wasn’t going to watch it happen again, but you need to understand that firing back with a Bleeding Curse is not the right way to respond, especially as a prefect. Bleeding Curses are Dark magic, and we try to discourage students from practising the Dark Arts here at Hogwarts.”

Harley didn’t respond.

“Can I tell you about the student who reminds me of you?” He asked.

“If it’s Lily Evans, forget it. I already know I remind certain people at this school of her. I should...she was my mum,” Harley said quietly.

“I know. I’m your godfather.”

She looked up so fast, she almost got whiplash. “Oh my Merlin, that’s where you’re from. The photo album. You were holding me with my mum. You look so different I did not recognise you.”

He smiled. “I have a copy of that photo. I always wondered what happened to you, but could find no information. Dumbledore told me everything when he hired me. I was a good friend of your stepfather’s.”

She arched a brow. “You know James wasn’t my real father?”

He chuckled. “Well, everyone  _ but  _ James knew. Lily never said anything, but the first year of their marriage was...rocky. She went back to the man I assume was her lover at one point before James. So you know, she did not Conceal you because of your father, she did so because she did not want anyone to find out she was unfaithful. It would have shamed the Potter name. They were purebloods of good standing, and she was too kind to ever hurt their reputation.

“She never said anything, but I knew what had happened. Your mother was nothing but wonderful, and the only bad thing I can say about her is that she gave people too many chances. However, that is not the student I was going to tell you about.”

“Then who?” She asked.

“Your father: who else? He was in a similar position to you, being bullied constantly. He lashed out eventually: Bleeding Curses, potions to make his bullies sick, amongst other things.”

As he paused, Harley blushed. It did sound just like her.

“He went too far in our seventh year. Did something that was nearly irrevocable. I want you to try to control yourself, Harley. For your mother’s sake. You can get into a war of words, but don’t go cursing people left and right,” he said. “Don’t give in to the lure of revenge and power the Dark Arts provide so readily.”

Harley decided to change the subject. “Does Harry know you knew his parents?”

“No, but he will. He has to. There are a lot of things going on I am not at liberty to talk about right now, for safety reasons,” Lupin said. “Sirius Black being the top one.”

“You wouldn’t be willing to tell me who my father actually is, would you?” Harley wondered.

“I trust you can find out on your own, even though I doubt it’s a good idea,” Lupin replied. “It seems you inherited his love of the Dark Arts, and I want to help you in any way I can. I’ll be unavailable tomorrow evening, but anytime after that--”

“Thanks, Professor, but I am fine. I’ve had the ‘Dark Arts talk’ already with Professor Snape. If I want information on my mum, I’ll ask you.” She  stood up, since this was not official detention she did not have to stay. “By the way, I know you’re a werewolf. You didn’t touch the silver picture frame I bumped into, your boggart is the full moon, and tomorrow is the full moon as well. To top it off, I found a Wolfsbane Potion in a book in the library. You are not very subtle. I’m not worried you will forget your potion and kill anyone, but I don’t think you want your secret exposed, either.”

Lupin smiled, but there was no happiness in that grin. “Like father like daughter. Goodnight, Harley. Don’t let me see you back here.”

_ Whatever, dog breath _ , Harley thought, grateful to be back in bed, even with having to room with Alicia.

It should have been great to meet her godfather, but she already didn’t like him very much. It wasn’t the werewolf thing. She didn’t care about that. She’d only threatened him because he had made her feel so small, so insignificant, so terrible. More like a Dark witch, and he made her father out to be a real bastard as well. She wanted to like him, but he was going to make it very difficult.

 

****

 

“This is degrading. I did not sign up for a bloody Muggle camping experience,” Harley complained as everyone filed into the Great Hall to sleep in safety while Dumbledore and the Dementors searched the castle for Sirius Black.

Finding out that her half-brother had been moments from being gutted like a Christmas goose had shaken the young witch, and she did not like being scared. She much preferred being annoyed, so that was how she decided to act.

“It’s one big sleepover,” Fred said, smiling.

“It’s unnecessary. Can’t someone just  _ Avada  _ him and be done with it?” she wondered.

“Harley!” Neville squeaked. “That--that’s awful!”

Harley turned around and said, “He’s a murderer, Longbottom. He doesn’t deserve all this attention, and we are wasting our evening by having to be here, all because of him.”

Boys and girls were on opposite sides of the Great Hall, and professors were walking up and down the rows of makeshift cots as Harley tried laying out her blankets and pillows in a semi-comfortable position. She could hear Harry, Ron and Neville all talking across the area of marble tile that separated them, whispering about Harry’s brush with death.

Harley stood up and went to approach the professors on patrol, thankful that Snape was one of them. Unlike the other professors, he never treated Harley like a child, or a loose cannon.

“Sir, is there any news on if he was caught?” she asked.

“Unfortunately not, Miss Torrance,” he replied. “Last Dumbledore told me, they were still looking, but Black and his old friends knew many...passages in and out of the castle no one else could figure out. I believe he is long gone. I think the headmaster would be well advised to question...a certain member of our staff.”

Harley thought about the map the twins had given Harry, and was wondering if she should mention it to Professor Snape, so they could use it to catch Black. Before she could, however, there was a small commotion, a cry of “watch out”, and then Harley, Professor Snape, and a few other students who had been standing nearby were knocked to the floor by Neville, who was chasing his Godforsaken toad.

“Oh no!” the third year wailed. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“Enough,” Snape growled. “Get up and get to bed... _ now _ . Five points from Gryffindor.” he stood up and held his hand out to Harley to help her up.

All of the students had had things scatter, from wands to books to candy they’d snuck into their pockets. Harley picked up her wand and a couple of stray Lindt truffles her mother had sent from home.

“All of you unharmed?” Snape asked brusquely. Everyone was fine, except for Neville’s bruised ego.

The night was thankfully devoid of further excitement, be it by criminals or wayward toads, and everyone was able to go to their common rooms come sunrise.

“I still didn’t find Trevor!” Neville whined. “Grandma will kill me if I lose him.”

Standing outside the Fat Lady’s painting, Harley said, “That bloody toad should be put down, that way none of us need to deal with it anymore. Why did you bring him into the Great Hall anyway; afraid Black might have a craving for some frog legs with lemon butter? ...You know what, forget I asked. Let’s try this.” She got her wand out of her pocket and said, “ _ Accio _ Trevor!”

They all watched in mute shock as the toad came whizzing by, straight into Neville’s hands. However, Harley was not as amused by her impressive spellwork as the others. She was turning her wand over and over in her hands, one thought permeating her mind:  _ Something isn’t right. _

As they went into the common room, Hermione noticed the look on Harley’s face and asked what was wrong.

“That spell I cast...I don’t think this is my wand.” She looked at it: matte black, almost fifteen inches, elaborate handle. However, this handle was more worn, as if the user had had it for more than a year and half. And unless it was her mind playing tricks, this one also looked a bit longer than her own, something she would not have noticed in the semidarkness of the Great Hall.

“It looks like your wand,” Fred commented.

“Maybe it was just a weird spell. Try another,” Ron suggested.

Harley smirked. “A weird spell? It was a Summoning Charm, not  _ Legilimens _ ! ...Fine.  _ Expelliarmus _ !” She cast the spell at Ron, knocking him into an armchair and making his siblings laugh as his wand went flying.

“I didn’t mean you could hex me!” Ron cried.

Harley held the wand up. “This is definitely not mine. It’s far too powerful to be mine, and it just feels a bit off when I use it. Do you know of anyone who has a wand like mine?” The wand felt familiar, but not right. It was hard to explain. She could feel the power of the unicorn hair, but it had been changed, warped. Holding the wand was like holding a candle: warm and comforting, but dangerous to deal with in the long run if left to burn too long. In truth, it gave her a chill and she wondered who owned it. Whoever it was, they were powerful.

“Well, whoever had this one now has yours,” Harry said.

“You’ve got  _ quite  _ the gift for stating the obvious, Potter,” Harley drawled.

There was a knock at the painting, loud and sharp.

“Any first years missing?” Hermione asked.

“No, I counted them all, and they all know the password anyway,” Harley replied.

Neville went and they heard him call out a squeaky ‘who is it’. They could not hear the response, but he came trotting back and said, “Harley, it’s for you.”

She went to the painting and stepped through the hole, surprised to see Snape standing there, arms folded across his chest.

“I believe you have something of mine, Miss Torrance,” he said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wand. “And I believe this belongs to you.”

Harley sighed in relief. “I just realised this wasn’t my wand, sir.” She handed the wand to him and then took the one he was holding out to her. Just holding her own wand felt right. “You should know, I cast two spells with your wand, Summoning and Disarming Charms.”

He smirked. “And I also cast a Summoning Charm, to see if this really wasn’t mine. Once you’ve had a wand for twenty-two years, you get to know the feel of it. I never knew there was another one made like mine, but I am glad a worthy witch is its owner.”

Harley’s blush suffused her pale face. “Thank you, sir. I have to agree you got lucky: it could have been Longbottom’s.”

Snape’s smirk widened and he coughed into his hand, a sign she knew was him hiding a laugh. “I’d break my own wand and retire, Miss Torrance.”

“And the Wizarding World would weep to lose you, sir,” she said. She loved these talks with him, small conversations where she got to see another side of the professor. Her Housemates could say what they wanted, she was really growing to like Severus Snape, and it felt to her that it was an honour to have the mate to his wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Stay tuned next Tuesday for more. xoxo


	8. Bullies, Mudbloods, and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley gets a taste of wizarding bullying, and when she lashes out, there is only one person who knows firsthand what she is going through.  
> The same man the Mirror Of Erised would show her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! You're getting this chapter earlier because I'm going to be really busy tomorrow when I usually post. I hope you like it!
> 
> I re-purposed the character of Alicia Spinnet for this entire story.

“It’s in two days!” Fred announced when they all woke up the next morning.

“What is in two days?” Harley asked, straightening her red and gold tie.

“The first Quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. I can’t wait for you to see us crush them. If I remember, you didn’t attend any games last year,” Fred commented.

“That’s because I am not a sports fan.” Harley said. “Even wizarding sports.”

Fred looked crestfallen. “But you’ll come watch your brother and I, won’t you?” He asked, his eyes hopeful.

“I suppose so,” Harley said, resigned. It was the nice thing to do, wasn’t it? She didn’t feel like cheering on Alicia, but what could she do? She really cared for Fred, and she didn’t want him to be sad she wasn’t there to see their game.

She spent the day with her nose buried in her books, trying to ignore the snide comments coming from Alicia and her best friend, Katie Bell (another Quidditch player). None of the teachers seemed to notice, or if they did they didn’t care. Alicia was a Quidditch star and Katie was a genius pureblood who was only in her fourth year, but was taking OWL classes.

In most classes, Harley sat between the twins, except for Herbology and Potions, where she sat between Fred and Alicia. She did not want to be next to her in case of any more abuse.

Professor Snape slammed the dungeon door behind them as the class settled in. “Today we are doing something that will assist those of you who will go into the Ministry and have to do with Muggle Relations or possibly Muggle/Wizard Crimes.

“Create the potion here--” the directions appeared on the board “--and we will continue once you’ve all completed it.” He stood at the front of the class while the students began measuring their materials.

Harley started concentrating on the potion base, which seemed very complex. These OWLs were no joke, and Snape’s classes were getting more and more challenging, which she loved.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and her potion will explode in her face,” she heard Alicia whisper and Katie giggled.

“If  _ she’s  _ lucky, it’ll singe her face,” Katie corrected. “And that hair. She doesn’t need Sleekeazy, does she?”

Harley bit her lip, her nerves making her hands shake, and that was not something you wanted to happen when you were a budding potioneer. She couldn’t mess this up…

“What kind of witch is she, anyway? She can’t even fly a broomstick,” Alicia added.

Hot tears came into her eyes, not of sadness but of frustration. This was her favourite class and now it was going to be ruined every time.

Alicia started to say something else when Snape’s voice could be heard saying, “Ten points...each...from Gryffindor. I can hear you, Spinnet and Bell. See me for detention this evening.” He began his rounds, placing something on each desk.

“Please thank Miss Torrance for acquiring us Muggle photographs for this lesson. If you made the potion properly, you should have a clear liquid the consistency of dragon blood in your cauldron. You will use the unicorn-hair brushes to brush your potion over the photograph you are given, turning it into a wizarding photo that moves.”

What he was putting on the desks were the photos Harley had given him. Harley was looking at herself, standing before her science fair project when she was ten, a potion that was actually natural shampoo she’d made at home, in her basement.

“Hey, Torrance, is this your snake? If so... _ why _ ?” Angelina Johnson asked, shuddering.

“Yes. My thirteenth birthday gift,” she replied.

Snape cleared his throat. “Now, coat your brushes liberally. After three strokes across the photo, it should begin to move. The effect is only temporary, but if you did it properly, it should last an hour at the maximum. If you did not do it properly…” He gestured towards Alicia, whose photo was letting off a very pungent odour. Fred’s wasn’t much better, as it made the photo bubble, like the ink was coming alive.

“Very poor, Weasley. Both Weasleys.” George’s was also bubbling. “Torrance, let me see yours.” Harley handed it to him, as she was shown sweeping her arm across her first place science fair project. “Perfect. I want a foot and a half from all of you on how a moving photograph’s effect is necessary in Muggle Communications and Criminalisation of Muggle/Wizard Crime. Have it in on Monday.”

Of course, the tormenting only got worse when they left class, Alicia and Katie talking about how so many of the photos had been of Harley. Well, it wasn’t her fault that that was what Mrs. Torrance sent to Snape! She didn’t pick them, after all.

She wanted to rest after class, but instead she was accosted by Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, who had been asked by Harry and Fred to teach Harley about Quidditch.

“But here’s the thing: I don’t care,” Harley said.

“I thought that I wouldn’t either, but it really such fun,” Hermione said. “You have to be at the game to truly understand.”

All three started talking in turns about the game, which only seemed a little bit less complex than Muggle sports. Harley could care less who caught a Snitch, or which team was assigned to which country.

She listened to them for about an hour by the time she had more information about the sport than she’d ever cared to know. She wondered idly if her mother had liked Quidditch as she took out her parchment to start on her Potions homework. She wanted that done, because it was the easiest. She had Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Dark Arts homework as well, so getting this out of the way early freed up her weekend more.

As she was getting into her groove, ink splattering her cheek from the speed of her writing, the Gryffindor Quidditch team returned from practice, talking and laughing so loudly that Harley lost her concentration.

“Oh, look, she’s got her skin turning the same colour as her heart,” Alicia said when Harley lifted her head from her paper.

“Hey, lay off her,” Fred snapped. “What’s she ever done to you?”

Alicia looked at Harley as if she were a wereworm that Hagrid had brought to class and said, “She exists.” With that, she stalked off to the girls’ dorm.

“What’s got up her arse lately?” George wondered.

“Did you do something?” Harry asked Harley.

“Why are you so quick to assume  _ I _ did something? I have barely said two words to her with the exception of ‘nice to meet you’! She has hated me from the moment she laid eyes on me, and I for one am sick of being treated this way! The way you all spoke to me, I had expected this kind of abuse from the Slytherins, but not from my own House,” Harley said.

Fred sighed, sitting down next to Harley. “Alicia has a tough home life. It’s not an excuse, but her parents are Muggles and they were really mad when she was accepted to Hogwarts.”

“But why pick on me? I’m sorry her parents hate her, but you know what? My mum is dead, and my father is some evil bastard in the wind! My adoptive parents shirk away whenever I walk into a room. She does not have my sympathy.”

“And I don’t want it!” Alicia had returned, clad in her pyjamas. “You walk around here like you’re so much better than everyone else! You’re creepy, you’re rude, when you do talk it’s to be sarcastic, and I don’t doubt that your real father is a You-Know-Who supporter. It would fit. I don’t like you. I will never like you. So why don’t you go on back to Potions class where everyone seems to love you? Maybe your cauldron will blow up and save us all the trouble of having to look at you every day!”

Harley leapt to her feet, every nerve trembling. It seemed she was always high-strung ever since coming to Hogwarts this year. Alicia hadn’t been  _ this  _ bad last year, so what had changed? Why was she, Harley, being persecuted like this?

“I do not give a damn what you think of me, Spinnet. Sorry your Muggle parents hate you, but don’t take that out on me, Mudblood!”

Harley realised what she’d said a second too late, and there was no way to take it back. Alicia had deserved it, but she knew her Housemates would not agree that what she said was justified. There was a hush over the room like someone dropped the F-bomb in a Muggle church.

Alicia ran back into the dorm, and the girls followed, with Hermione turning back to Harley to give her a disgusted look over her shoulder.

“That was uncalled for,” Percy said coldly. “I have to report you to McGonagall tomorrow.”

“She tells me she hopes I die in a cauldron explosion, but  _ I’m  _ out of line. Nice, Weasley. Piss off, all of you.” Harley dashed from the common room, forgetting her paper, as she ran, wondering where she could be alone to calm down. The library was semi-crowded, the girls’ lavatory was never empty, and she wasn’t about to go outside with a bunch of Dementors patrolling the grounds and an escaped murderer on the loose.

She finally came across the Great Hall, which was blissfully empty. There was a little nook behind the Slytherin table that was hidden from view, and she collapsed there, hot tears spilling from her dark eyes.

She curled up with her knees to her chest and tried to quiet her sobs. This was supposed to be a way out, a place to fit in, and yet everything was going horribly wrong. She sat there, cradling her head in her robes, unable to stop from crying. Her sobs were so loud in her ears she did not hear the footsteps approaching until they were right by her.

Looking up, hoping it wasn’t another prefect, Harley peered through stinging eyes. It wasn’t much better than a prefect: it was Professor Snape. Harley was ready to jump up and explain herself, lie, whatever she could not to wind up in detention. For some reason, she could not bear the thought of her favourite professor punishing her or being disappointed in her.

Before she could speak, the professor surprised her by sitting on the floor next to her, his back against the wall and his arms around his knees. Neither of them spoke, and Harley found that she hadn’t actually stopped crying. Tears were still leaking from her eyes.

“You know, when I was a student at Hogwarts, I couldn’t go a single class without being ridiculed,” he said in his melodic voice. “My time as a student here was absolutely terrible. The things I went through...when I was your age, the star Gryffindor Quidditch player decided I was a great target. In fact, he had decided that when we were eleven, but it got worse when I showed romantic interest in the same girl as he.” The professor gave her a meaningful look. “After that, what had been mutual dislike turned into outright bullying.

“I used to escape back here, in this very spot, to be alone. Of course, many of the other Slytherins also made fun of me for being such a pathetic victim.”

“I can’t imagine you ever being a victim, sir,” Harley said, hiccuping.

“Oh, I was. Because I  _ let  _ myself be a victim. I did not have anyone there to help me, to tell me that I didn’t  _ have  _ to be tormented. Spinnet teases you out of spite, because Fred Weasley likes you, and as of last year, McGonagall was talking about them having...relations. Do not let yourself be her victim anymore.”

Harley wiped her eyes, and he handed her a black handkerchief. “Thank you. It is hard, because when I defend myself, everyone acts as though  _ I  _ did something wrong. My own brother asked me what I did to make her hate me, instead of thinking that I could possibly be innocent. And then...tonight...I said something to  _ really  _ make everyone hate me.”

Snape looked down at her and smirked. “Let me guess...you called Spinnet a Mudblood.”

“Good guess,” she mumbled. “Even Hermione seems to hate me for that.”

“I imagine you are not a popular person in the Gryffindor common room at the moment,” Snape agreed.

“This was supposed to be my escape from Muggle bullying. Everywhere I go I seem to invite hate.” She bit her lip, tears coming back. “I have never done anything to anyone to deserve this. It really isn’t fair.” She moved, her head brushing her professor’s shoulder. He let it stay there, and she was thankful. She needed comfort, even the cold kind he was only capable of giving. “What do I do, Professor? What did you do?”

“Well, what I did and what you should do are two mutually exclusive things,” Snape said. “I would not advise you to do what I did. Instead, I would advise you to go up there, profusely apologise for using that word--even if you do not mean it--and do not give up on the Weasley boy if you really care for him. Fight for what you want, and don’t, for the love of Merlin, don’t go Dark. Do not let revenge rule your soul. Your mother would not have wanted that.”

He stood up, holding out his hand to help Harley to her feet as well. “The next time this happens, come to my office, no matter the time of day or night. I sincerely hope it does not. More than anything, you need to  _ control your emotions _ . I learnt long ago that all people like Spinnet want is a reaction, attention. Don’t give her your tears, nor your anger. She does not deserve it.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”

He just looked at her before walking away, saying, “Get back to your dorm, Torrance. It’s past nine.”

 

****

 

Snape locked the door to his office when he got back there and leaned against it, sighing. He had not expected to see anyone while making his rounds save for the usual troublemakers. Finding Harley, sobbing in the same spot he used to cry in at school had been...painful.

He went to his desk, opening the drawer of Muggle photographs he had Duplicated from the Torrances’ album. All these years had passed, and yet Lily’s love, her influence, would never seem to leave him, it seemed. Her death...Harry showing up, having her eyes, and now this. The one thing he had never in his life expected.

His daughter. His and Lily’s child. A child she had hidden from him. Because he had taken the Dark Mark in seventh year? Or because she couldn’t bear to hurt poor little James? When she had first appeared at Hogwarts, she had reminded him so of Lily, and yes, of himself. He reprimanded himself for not realising it sooner. He remembered the night Harley had been conceived, but at the time he had not known that Lily had left his home carrying their child.

Would things have changed had he known about Harley? Would Lily have wound up with him? How on Earth had he not known about this child?

Gazing down at the photos, he saw all the years he had missed in her life. Her birthdays, her awards, her advancement in witchcraft. He should have been there when she got her letter to Hogwarts at her  _ rightful  _ age, he should have been there the first time she had done magic. And he definitely should have been there to advise against her using a potion to give a Muggle snakeskin. Although...that had been extremely entertaining to hear about. It reminded him of himself.

He had a child. He had never seen himself as a father before, but now he keenly regretted not having been there for her. And he had been in Godric’s Hollow, the night Lily had died. Had the Charm been so strong that he had not felt the presence of his own kin?

Harley was so much like him it was a little alarming. How had no one else noticed but his fellow professors? Unfortunately, she had gained not just his hair and eyes, but his personality as well. She was being subjected to the exact same ridicule he had been when he was her age.

He grimaced, remembering his torture at the hands of Gryffindor Quidditch Captain James Potter. Mainly to impress Lily, but also just because it entertained him. James had had a perverse pleasure in tormenting him ever since they met on the Hogwarts Express when they were eleven. Snape clenched his fists, determined to not allow what had happened to him happen to his daughter. When he had been at school, he had been alone, with nowhere to turn but to the Dark Arts. He would not let Harley fall down that same rabbit hole.

He opened another drawer and removed a photo of him and Lily, one of the few he possessed. He placed it next to a photo of Harley at her tenth birthday. Yes, she certainly did have both of her parents in her face. But that smile...that was all Lily. Snape vowed to see that smile more on Harley. The dour look might have suited her as it suited her father, but she did not deserve to go through life as hurt and angry as he himself did.

He closed the photo album, letting his hand caress Lily’s photo. Another piece of her had come back into his life thanks to Hogwarts, but this one did not hurt so much.   
  
****

 

Back in the dorm, the only person still awake was Fred. He seemed to have been up waiting for Harley. She walked up to him, ready to start apologising (though she did not mean it; she meant everything she’d said to Alicia), but he stopped her.

His arms came around her and he kissed her as she had never expected to be kissed. “I do not care what you said. You were hurt, and I understand. I think Alicia was in the wrong for the way she spoke to you. That was mean and uncalled for.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Harley asked.

“No. I’m mad at her. You, I love.”

Harley blanched, realising what he had just said to her. “You…”

“I love you. Maybe someone slipped me a love potion the day we met, but I have been head over heels from day one,” he said.

“I love you, too,” Harley whispered. “And I think that’s the root of the problem.”

“Hm?”

She moved away, as much as he would let her, and said, “Spinnet teases me because she apparently wants you. She’s taking her anger out on me, hoping to drive me away from you.”

Fred smiled down at her. “Let her try. I won’t let her drive us apart.”

 

****

 

In between classes, Harley was accosted by Harry and Ron as she was on her way to the dungeons for Potions.

“I think I know how you can find out who your father is,” Harry said, eyes bright behind his spectacles.

That got her attention. Thankful she was early for class, she pulled them aside and asked, “Just what are you talking about, Potter? I already asked everyone who could possibly give me that information...unless you suggest that Trelawney hold a seance for me. If that’s it, you can all go piss off.”

“No, no,” Ron said. “That class is ridiculous anyway.”

“There’s this thing called the Mirror Of Erised, and when you look in it, you see your heart’s desire. So, your desire is to know who your dad is, right? Just go find it and then you’ll have your answer!” Potter looked very pleased with himself.

Before Harley could answer, there was a throat clearing behind them.

“Potter. If I remember correctly, Dumbledore told you not to look in that Mirror again, and has since removed it from the premises for your obsession with what you saw there,” Professor Snape said, black eyes glaring at the two boys. “You know you should not be talking about it. Five points from Gryffindor...each. Now get out of my sight.”

Harley watched, amused, as they scurried away. She was again glad that she had never done anything to incur the wrath of Severus Snape.

“Those five points did not include me, sir, did they?” Harley asked.

“Of course not. Come with me, Miss Torrance. We’ve a few moments before class begins.” He led her to the classroom and closed the door before he began to speak again. “I am sure your idiot brother has now piqued your interest about the Mirror. You should know, it would not work for you even if you could look into it. The Mirror shows you what you desire most, but you do not know what your father  _ looks  _ like. Therefore, what it would show you is what you  _ want  _ him to be. It is not prophetic. Look in there, and it will show you the man you want him to be, not the man he is.”

She thought it over. “That is what I thought when Potter first mentioned it.”

As class started, Harley took her usual seat and watched as Professor Snape began explaining the potion they were about to make. Yes, she knew what she would see if she looked into the Mirror Of Erised: the same man she was watching now. But that was only a dream, and she was certain that the reality, whomever her father really was, would pale in comparison to the man she wished he would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a parallel between the James/Severus bullying scenes and what Alicia does to Harley. I would love to get some feedback about what you guys thought. As always, thank you for reading! xoxo


	9. The Journals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape gives Harley her mother's old journals, which he had rescued from Godric's Hollow. What information will she glean about her late mother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a controversial chapter, but I always had an issue with the fact that James Potter had been a terrible human being towards Lily and Severus for seven years, and yet he changed with the snap of a finger and she fell in love with him. In my real life experience with people like James, that was very unrealistic, whereas the character development for every other character Rowling wrote was spot on. You can change over years, but not all of a sudden like he did.  
> If you love James, forgive me for this chapter.
> 
> Lily's journal is supposed to have Severus' name blacked out, but I couldn't get it to look that way on here. Just imagine that you can't read it. ;)

Careers advice was about to begin for the fifth years. Two days after Harry was being treated for fainting during the Quidditch match, the older students had to go to their Head Of House to get evaluated for what kind of career they wanted once they’d left Hogwarts. The list of interview times was posted on the Gryffindor bulletin board.

“Um...why am I not listed?” Harley asked. She wondered if perhaps Dumbledore or McGonagall thought she was too inexperienced?

“This is yours,” George said, passing her a black envelope with her name written in a metallic green quill ink.

She took it and opened it up, reading the rushed, cramped hand.

_ “Miss Torrance, your Head of House and I decided that your area of expertise would fall more within my wheelhouse, so your careers meeting is with me, on Saturday at 5PM, in my office. Do not be late. _

_ “From the desk of Professor S. Snape.” _

Relieved, she pocketed the note and sat down, wondering what kind of job she could possibly have in the real world. She hadn’t thought much of what would happen to her when she graduated Hogwarts. She’s just been so pleased to be at this place, she had not stopped to wonder about her impending adult life as a witch.

At least the meeting would mean she didn’t have to attend another Quidditch match. Aside from the excitement when the Dementors had appeared on the field, she had been extraordinarily bored the entire time.

That evening, as she was leaving Astronomy (which she did not plan to take up after her OWLs had been taken), Professor Snape found her, carrying a box that looked worn and old, big enough to contain a few books.

“Miss Torrance, I was looking for you,” he said.

“Can I help you, sir?” She asked, shifting her bag from one hand to another. Was this about their upcoming meeting?

“I realise that no one has been very helpful in assisting you with finding more information about your family, and I would like to be of some small assistance.” He handed her the box, which was heavier than it looked. “When your mother and stepfather were found, the Ministry came in and took wizarding items so that Muggles did not discover them, They left things that were harmless, such as these. Open the box.”

She did, and saw that there were ten bound journals with dates on the side. A journal per year from the time the writer was eleven until they were twenty-one, judging by the numbers.

“Those were your mother’s,” Snape said, surprising her. “I did not want them falling into the wrong hands or being destroyed, so I took them from the house and brought them to Hogwarts for safekeeping. I thought that those might be of assistance to you. If you do not get important information, then you at least will have gotten some insight into who your mother was. She was a wonderful woman, and it is a shame you could not get to know her when she was alive.”

Surprised and pleased, she said, “Thank you, Professor. That means a lot, that you thought of me and that you kept these all these years. ...May I ask...why did you not give them to Harry when he arrived at Hogwarts?”

Snape’s thin mouth turned down in distaste. “Potter would not have appreciated their value. He is ignorant in the face of the subtle, and cannot comprehend the beautiful.”

She nodded, feeling that Snape was correct about her half-brother. “Have you read them yourself, sir?”

“Oh, no. Those were not mine to peruse,” he replied. “I do not know what kind of information you will find in there. I hope that they help you. While I can’t say any of us want you knowing more about your father while you are still so young and impressionable, it is a risk I am willing to take by giving these to you.”

“Thank you, sir. I want to go now, while most of them will be asleep, to peek through them. See you tomorrow in class.” Harley smiled at him and walked away, feeling a new bounce in her step.

As she had expected, her roommates were all asleep already. Harley changed, climbed into bed, and looked at the journals, picking the one from her birth year. She wanted to know who her father was before she read anything else, though the possibility of knowing her mum better was thrilling.

Hiding beneath her covers and whispering, “ _ Lumos _ ”, her wand lit up, giving her enough light to read by.

_ I was born at the end of October, so I had to be conceived between the middle of January or February at the earliest, depending on if I was early or not _ , she thought, gingerly leafing through the pages, seeing her mother’s perfect calligraphy on every page. Very unlike her own rushed hand.

She found what she was looking for on 10th January.

 

Yesterday, I did something that might have been extraordinarily stupid. However, if it was stupid, would I feel so blissful? I don’t know. I had better start from the beginning. Unfortunately, I tried bewitching this entry to blank out the other participant’s name. It did, but it also blacked his name out in every single entry since I started writing in these journals! I did not want James seeing his name, but now he will know anyway, if he sees the same name blacked out in every single journal. So stupid of me.

I woke up yesterday and remembered that it was Severus’s 18th birthday, so my first inclination was to send him a card via Owl Post. And then I remembered that spectacular fight we’d had. Amazing, how one word can make a friendship that lasted from the time we were nine dissipate completely. Well, that slur and James all of a sudden being so damn attractive to me. And the Mark. Can’t forget the Mark. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in all my old memories of Severus, I forget all the bad things from the last couple years of school.

I sat down at the kitchen table, thinking about what had happened in seventh year. How I all of a sudden started falling for James Potter, the git I had despised since our first meeting on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago. How that was the final nail in the coffin for Sev, how he hated me for loving his lifelong tormentor. How it pushed him away, into the arms of  _ them _ , the only people who still showed him any positive attention.

I started hating  _ myself  _ for that recently. As I sat at the table, I saw a note from James that he was at the Quidditch pitch with the usual suspects: Sirius, Remus, and Peter. He had not asked what I wanted to do this fine Saturday, where we were both off work and it was cold but pleasant. He just went off again, leaving me here. No regard for what I wanted.

Recently, I started to wonder if he had not given me some strong type of love potion. Not Amorentia, I would recognise that feeling. But something definitely didn’t add up with my own feelings, and I think James might have given me something. How, I don’t know: he was hopeless in Potions class.

I was upset with him all day for leaving, so upset that I even forgot that I had been considering writing to Severus. When James came home (looking for dinner, or course), we had a huge row. The biggest row yet, and that includes the ones we had before we were dating, when I’d call him every name in the book. I knew, as he complained that “this wasn’t how I expected life to be with you”, that he had given me a love potion.

I was furious, livid. I could not remain there, so I Apparated, leaving Godric’s Hollow and reappearing, where else, Spinner’s End. My old hometown. Sev was home. I knew his parents were both deceased, so unless he let his house to others, he was there. There was a sliver of candlelight peeking behind the tightly drawn curtains.

Taking a breath, steeling myself for a curse as soon as he saw me standing there, I knocked on his door.

The door opened slowly, still squeaking on its hinges just as it did years ago. It revealed the face of my childhood best friend and first love, Severus Snape. Dour, pale face. Dark, searching eyes. Long, inky black hair. The man I loved then, and still love now.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding more curious than cross.

I had planned on talking gently, trying to mend the fence between us, when all of a sudden I did the one thing that was most unlike me: I burst into tears, right there in his doorway. I was nearly incoherent as I felt his arms come around me, and he led me into his house. Once the door was closed behind us he held me to his chest, my face in the crook of his neck, and one hand in my hair while his other held me close.

“Lily,” he said, his voice low. I could have listened to him speak of anything for hours on end and never get tired of that voice. “Lily, you must calm down. Please...you are trembling.”

He led me to the library and left the room, only to return with two bottles of butterbeer and a box of tissues. He held my hand while I wiped my tears, trying so hard to calm down.

“I--I did not know where to go. I made a mistake, Sev, a big mistake and I don’t know how to undo it. You probably hate me, and I’m sorry I had to come and bother you, but--”

He stopped me from talking by simply clearing his throat. I looked up at him, afraid of the burning hate I would see there. There was no hate, and no coldness. Only the way he had always looked at me, love and kindness piercing through the indifferent black veil.

“Lily.” He seemed unable to not say my name. “I could never hate you. I was furious, I was hurt, I  _ am  _ hurt...but never could I hate you. Not you. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

So I did. I told him how I thought James had given me a love potion against my will, and how I thought it had to be wearing off, because I didn’t love James anymore. And I don’t. I really don’t. It’s like there was a switch that was turned off inside me.

I watched his face as I talked. He was usually so good at schooling his expression, but this time it was plain to see the shock and anger he had towards James.

“I will find out if he gave you a potion,” he said, his wand at his side. “Can you Apparate into your home? Where  _ is  _ your home?”

“No, Severus, don’t. You don’t want to wind up in Azkaban because of  _ James _ ,” I said, instinctively grabbing his hand.

He held onto me, and I could feel the tension leaving him. We had always helped each other in that way. We had driven away each other's bad sides and brought the good to light. I loved him so much, and I had missed him like crazy since last June. I knew why I had said I couldn’t be with him. I remembered. It was just, at that moment, Dark and Light didn’t matter anymore. Only the love between us mattered.

We started drinking together, he brought out wine from his mother’s old cellar, the good stuff, made by Prince house elves when Eileen was a girl. We talked about the past year and what we had been doing. He was vague, and I am sure I know why. I am sure I know what he was doing and who he was doing it for. I deliberately did not ask. I didn’t want to touch the Dark Arts tonight: I just wanted him. I wanted his warmth and his love.

Two hours passed as if no time had gone by at all. I had forgotten how time did this whenever we were together. It was a pleasant feeling.

“It is late,” he said when the clock struck nine.

“I can’t go back, Sev,” I said. “I don’t want to be with someone like James anymore.”

I stood before Severus, in the foyer, my mind a jumble and my heart even worse.

“If you do not want to go back permanently, you must go back tonight. Do not allow him to get suspicious. He knows I am the only person you would run to,” he reminded me. “And, I do not want to bring this up...but you might just be having a rough first year. I do not want you to break up what could be a good thing. I love you, Lily. I cannot be what stands between you and happiness.”

I stepped closer to him. “The only thing that makes me happy is you.”

As if those words had been a spell, it was like something was unlocked inside of Severus and he grabbed me about the waist, one hand tangling in my hair, and pulled me to him in a heated kiss. I fell into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him back as if I were drowning and he was the only thing that would save me.

His kiss wiped my mind of everything except for him. How he felt, how he smelled, how he tasted as his tongue plundered my mouth. He was perfect, and I wanted him. I needed him.

“Sev, please,” I whispered as he kissed my neck. I was not above begging him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice husky.

“As sure as I was when we were sixteen,” I replied.

He picked me up. He had filled out considerably since we’d left school. He was thin but no longer looked scrawny and weak. He could easily carry me without using magic, and did so, depositing me on his bed. It was his parents’ old room, but it didn’t look the same. Their things were gone, and the place reflected his personality. His adult persona.

I kissed him again, and in a blur of feverish kisses and movements, we were naked on the bed. I’m no erotica writer, and I won’t go into detail, but it was most definitely the best night I had ever had in my life. I am betting that nothing will ever come close to it.

We lay there together, exhausted and happy. I looked over at him and saw the smile on his lips, the smile I hadn’t seen in years.

It wasn’t until I moved over, my hair uncovering his arm, that I saw  _ it _ . That stark reminder of why we had never been together. The Mark. My heart lurched. Was he still one of  _ them _ , or had he left? Was the Mark removable?

He saw where I was looking and hastily covered his arm with his black duvet. “Lily…”

I held my hand up. “No, Sev, don’t. Don’t ruin tonight, please. This is the happiest I have been in years.”

He nodded. “I know. I have wanted this for so long, Lily.” He kissed me again, but it was not feverish. This was soft, sweet. The kiss of a true love. “But you and I know this is not meant to be. Not as long as this is such a reminder of who I am. Of  _ what  _ I am.” He gestured to the Mark, still hidden.

“I don’t care anymore,” I insisted.

He smiled again, but this time it was tinged with sadness. “You always made me happy. Since we were children. All I ever wanted was to be able to make you just as happy as you make me, but I cannot do that. It used to make me angry, but now I am resigned to that fact.”

I felt a pang in my heart, for he was right. As long as that Mark remained, we could not be together. Not really. He would always have an allegiance to  _ him  _ over me.

“Lily, I am happy we shared tonight. And I so badly want to take you up on what you’re offering me for the rest of our lives. It is all I ever wanted. But I will not hurt you. You need to go. Please, while you still love me.” He looked away from me, his dark eyes filling with tears. “If you stay, you would not love me for long, and I could not have that.”

He sent a silent spell with his wand (we kept our wands at the edge of the bed, because you really never know) and my clothes piled up beside me. He would not look at me.

I dressed, as he still lay in his bed, feeling a new weight in my heart. I turned to him when I was clothed, bending down so I was level and kissed him hard. He kissed back with equal fervour, kissing me so hard I would probably be bruised and so would he.

“One day, that will be gone. The past will be erased,” I said. “Until then, I will wait for you. I will never stop loving you, Severus Snape.”

“Always?” He asked me, a secret smile on his lips, which I returned.

“Always.” I stood up, ready to Apparate out of there, when I turned back. “By the way, this all started because I wanted to send you a birthday owl. Happy birthday.”

He laughed, and so did I, despite the tears in both our eyes.

“I love you, Lily Evans. Always.”

Those were the last words he spoke to me before I left, going back to Godric’s Hollow. Back to a house where there was no love.

My sleeping with Severus was not my big, stupid mistake. No. That was necessary. That was right. That was perfect. No, the mistake was not using protection. A witch knows these things early, and I know that I am pregnant with his child.

 

Harley put the journal down, her eyes prickling with tears. She had not gotten a way to find her father without extensive searching, but she now knew that her parents were in love. That was by far the saddest story she had ever heard, two lovers forced apart by the Dark Arts and James Potter’s ego.

Her analytical mind started cataloging the new information she had. Her father was born on 9th January, he lived in a place called Spinner’s End, and his mother’s name was Eileen Prince, which explained Harley’s middle name. Was his surname Prince as well? He also had some sort of Mark that made her mother be unable to be with him, something to do with the Dark Arts. No wonder everyone worried about Harley being a Dark witch, they all knew what her father had been. Was he still into the Dark side? Can one ever escape once they’re in?

She turned her mind towards her mother’s accusation of James giving her a love potion against her will. Love potions were legal, and Harley for one hated the thought of them. To think that James could have bewitched her mother with a potion...her blood was boiling. She needed to close the journal and go to sleep, before she woke Harry up and gave him a punch that his father had probably never gotten before his death. This was a serious situation and it needed her complete concentration. If Professor Snape had known her mother, perhaps he could also give her some insight on her stepfather.

As Harley was drifting off, she remembered one line her mother had written that kept sleep at bay for quite some time. James had gone to the Quidditch pitch with “the usual suspects: Sirius, Remus, and Peter.” Sirius. Sirius Black. He had been friends with the escaped convict now terrorising the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave kudos and comments. Just please, no hate. My opinion about James is my own and I hope you all will respect it, just as I will respect yours. :)


	10. Protective Professor Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape has a warning for Fred Weasley. Harley receives careers advice and finds out how she got her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to establish more of Snape's good side and my headcanon of why Lily ever married James. Enjoy!

The next morning, Harley cornered Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “I heard something you might be interested in, regarding Sirius Black,” she said quietly. Their dorm was mostly empty, but two other third-year boys were still there.

“About what he did to my dad and our mum?” Harry asked.

“What? I heard he was a friend of your father’s,” Harley said. “What did he do to them?”

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. “Um, you might want to sit down, Harley,” Hermione said, having mostly forgiven Harley for her anti-Muggle born slur.

Harry then proceeded to explain what he had overheard McGonagall saying in the Three Broomsticks during the Hogsmeade weekend. Harley felt her knees go out from under her as she plopped into the nearest armchair. He had gotten them killed. He had killed her mother, prevented her from ever being happy with her father. Prevented James from knowing his son.

“I will bloody murder him,” Harley said. Her anger at James had taken a backseat to the man who had killed her mother. “I hope he does show up here: I want to watch him die. I want to see the Dementors take his soul.”

“Now you two sound related,” Ron commented, gesturing between Harley and Harry, who did indeed have identical expressions of rage on their faces. Harley wondered if their mother had had a temper.

They went down to breakfast, Harley’s mind never stopping, going between Sirius Black, her father, and her godfather, who had also been a friend of Black’s. At least, judging by his hints, he was going to protect Harry and Harley from Black.

Her distraction of the day came as their double Potions class ended. Harley was the last to leave the room, holding hands with Fred and listening to him and George talk about something they found in Zonko’s. It felt odd to be holding hands; she’d never done it before. It was nice, to have that warm comfort from another’s touch, though.

As they reached the door, Snape said, “Mr. Weasley. I need to speak with you.”

“Which one of us?” George asked.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he said, “You,” pointing at Fred. “Miss Torrance, you’re a prefect: please let the students waiting to come in know that I will be a moment.”

“Certainly, sir,” she said, letting go of Fred’s hand.

He pretended to grip her and plead, “Don’t leave me!”

Harley shook her head, exiting with George and closing the dungeon door behind them. The class waiting to file in were the third year Slytherins and Gryffindors.

“What’s happening?” Malfoy asked, arms crossed.

“Professor Snape is in a conference with a student,” Harley announced. “As prefect, he asked me to inform you that class will be delayed a few moments.”

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. “Who?” Ron asked.

“Fred,” George said. “I hope he comes out alive and not cooked in a potion.”

Harley gave him a nudge. “Quit that. You’re not supposed to talk that way about professors. One warning is all you get.”

 

****

 

Fred had been surprised to be called back by Snape. Since he knew Harley respected the Potions Master, he had tried to behave himself in Potions class. He wanted her to be happy he was her boyfriend, not ashamed or upset with him. What on Earth had he done?

“Was there something wrong with my potion, sir?” He asked.

“No. For once, you got an ‘Acceptable’ on your potion,” Snape drawled. “I wanted to speak with you about something you haven’t yet done. I have recently noticed your...relationship with Miss Torrance. As you know, she is the brightest student, not just in this class, but in the entire year. Your relationship has already gotten her negative attention from Alicia Spinnet.”

“Sir, if I can interrupt you, I hope you’re not planning on making us break up,” Fred asked, his face heating.

“On the contrary, I merely wanted to give you a warning. She seems very...happy with you. I advise you not to hurt her, and I hope you’ll take it as your responsibility to stop Miss Spinnet from antagonising her on a daily basis. Her education and happiness are the most important things here, and I do not want to see her grades slipping or her heart broken because of your relationship or a side effect of it.  _ Be good to her _ ,” Snape said forcefully. He stood up. “That is all. You may go, Mr. Weasley.”

Fred nodded, unsure of if he had just heard him right. Was Professor Snape really trying to give him dating advice? “For the record, sir, I don’t ever plan on hurting Harley. I love her.” He left, his mind whirling and very confused.

 

****

 

“What happened?” Harley asked as she, Fred, and George went upstairs. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

Fred shook his head. “You won’t believe me if I told you. ...He’s worried about your grades. He told me he was concerned that if I hurt you or kept letting Alicia tease you, your grades would slip and you’d be hurt.”

George and Harley were dumbstruck. Was that normal procedure for professors? Not in the Muggle world, certainly, but perhaps because they resided here, the professors took it upon themselves to watch over them like guardians.

“Anyway, it's nice that he cares. I have to go. Detention with McGonagall, thanks to  _ your  _ older brother who needs to keep his nose out of my business,” Harley commented, turning away from their common room to go to McGonagall’s Transfiguration classroom.

Once there, she received another long lecture about how Muggle-borns were good witches and wizards, and that calling them out in such a way was unacceptable. “Your father was a common insulter of Muggle-borns, despite his own father being a Muggle. We don’t encourage that here, and you especially should not behave that way, because your own mother was a Muggle-born.”

Harley’s heart skipped. “I know my mum was a Muggle-born. I only used that word because I was extremely angry at Spinnet. I wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt me by telling me she hoped I’d die from a cauldron explosion. I do not know what Percy Weasley told you, but she is not innocent in all this. I was angry. I made a mistake. I promise it will not happen again,” Harley said. “You can ask Professor Snape if you do not believe me: he has had to punish her before for making fun of me in his class.”

McGonagall sighed. Harley had liked her, and she understood why McGonagall had to give her this lecture. It was Alicia she was still incensed with, for getting her in this situation to begin with. And it looked like she wouldn’t be getting in trouble for what she’d said, either.

 

****

 

“Coming to the game?” Fred asked her on Saturday as he prepared his Quidditch gear.

“We’d love to have you at a real game, you know--without Dementors,” Oliver Wood added.

“I have a careers meeting at five. If it ends in time, I will come,” she promised, not meaning it. “Who are you playing? Slytherin again?”

“Hufflepuff,” Harry replied.

“Well, kick their arses,” Harley replied weakly, waving the team off so they could go and prepare, Alicia ignoring her well-wishes.  _ Hope you crash your broom _ , Harley thought bitterly, putting on her robes to go down to Snape’s office.

His office was down the hall in the dungeon, near his Potions classroom and the Slytherin common room, just as McGonagall’s was near the Gryffindor common room and so on. Not for the first time, Harley wondered why the Hat had sorted her into Gryffindor, when she was so obviously Slytherin material.

She knocked on Snape’s door and he told her to come in. His office was dark, filled with old books and candles. Flasks and jars lined the walls. It was a very comfortable room, despite the jar of pickled eyeballs staring at her from over the professor’s head.

“Right on time, Miss Torrance. Please sit.” Snape gestured to the chairs across from his antique desk. He had a file of parchment in front of him. “Professor McGonagall figured that, since your expertise is in Potions and Defence Against The Dark Arts, I would be better suited to your needs for your future.

“While I realise it might feel, especially to you, that graduating Hogwarts is many years off, you are much closer to going into the real Wizarding World than you know. Your OWLs are going to determine what you will be once you leave here.

“Have you given any thought to what you might like to do after graduation?” He asked.

Harley shifted in her seat. “To be honest, Professor, I have no idea. I know what my strengths are, but I fail to see how they will contribute to a career in two years.”

“I thought as much, because you started here so late.” He opened the file. “There are a few worthwhile professions for someone with your considerable skills. Being an Auror is one, and another that I think you will be interested in is a Healer, one of the people who work at St. Mungo’s Hospital.”

“What does being a Healer entail, sir?” she asked.

“Well, you need ‘Outstanding’ OWLs and NEWTs in many areas, including Potions, Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology. I think you can manage that,” he said. “If you happen to not make all of those grades, you could also consider opening an apothecary, or possibly joining a chain of them.”

Harley took out a piece of parchment and began to take notes. It was then that she remembered something. “Sir...do you know about J. Pippin’s Potions?”

He scoffed. “That place is a disgrace to all potioneers and apothecaries. She makes her Galleons by selling love potions, mostly.”

“Yes, I noticed. The reason I brought it up is that she had a sign saying she would close in two years. Do you think it’s possible that, if I could get the funds, I could open my own shop there? It would be perfect timing,” she said.

“Hm. I do not see why you couldn’t,” Snape said. “I think that would be a wonderful idea. I would like to follow up once your OWL results have been received and we will discuss this opportunity more thoroughly in your sixth year.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

He paused and said, “On a different note, have you had the opportunity to peruse the journals I gave you?”

Harley nodded. “I have been so busy, I only had the time to read about my conception. Mother put a Charm on the journals that backfired: my father’s name has been blacked out in every single journal. I did receive some interesting information, which I plan to follow up on during the summer.”

“Care to elaborate?” Snape asked, leaning on his desk.

“Well, I found out he lived at a place called Spinner’s End. I will of course make that my first visit. His mother was named Eileen Prince, though if that was her married name or not I do not know. My mum gave me her name as my second name. And...he was apparently into the Dark Arts, so it looks like everyone is right: I have Dark blood in my veins.” She looked down, not wanting to meet her teacher’s eyes. She was ashamed of that fact.

“Harley,” he said, using her given name again, “there are many kinds of Dark Arts. While it is not advisable to delve into them, that doesn’t mean that he nor you are evil. Everyone said you should not dig into his past, and perhaps they are right. I do not like the look on your face. You should never be ashamed of your heritage. As I told you, your blood does not define you.”

“I am not  _ just  _ ashamed,” she said, “I’m upset. My mother wrote that she loved him. And he loved her. But they could not be together. He told her she should leave and go back to James, and he doesn’t even know I exist. Sir, I think my mum made the wrong choice, all because of the stupid Dark Arts. If what she wrote is true, my father loved her more than the Dark, and that love should have been enough to save their relationship.”

Snape did not respond right away, and when he did his words were measured, as if he was weighing each of them.

“As much as I disliked James Potter, your mother made the right choice.”

Harley leapt up, unable to contain herself. “No, she didn’t! Not only was he friends with the man who got them murdered, Mum wrote about how she and James suddenly fell in love, and about how she just as abruptly fell out of love with him. She thought he gave her a love potion that wore off!”

Snape’s eyes met hers, anger clouding his usually calm, controlled expression. “I would not put it past him. Miss Torrance, I have other business to attend to tonight. Our meeting must be over, but let me leave you with these words: your blood does not make you who you are. Ignore those who say you will be or are currently a Dark witch. You know you are not, and I know it as well. So does Mr. Weasley.” If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn the stern professor smiled at her. “Good evening, Miss Torrance.”

Feeling a bit reassured and much lighter having told Potter’s possible deception to another, Harley wished him a good evening and went back to her dorm, eager to read a bit more of her mother’s journals.

 

_ 14th February, 1978 _

_ I reread my old entry, and I think that James  is  giving me a love potion. There is no reason for me to be feeling love towards him at the moment, and yet I am. I am rereading my time with Severus to remind me of this fact, and to remind me of the man I actually love. I do not know what to do. I am afraid of James and of the way I feel. I should leave, but the potion is making me stay. Damn him! _

 

“James Potter, if you weren’t dead already, I’d kill you myself,” she muttered, turning the page in the journal.

“What did you say to me?” Harry asked, his head popping up from the essay he had been writing.

Harley jumped, having forgotten her half-brother was in the common room. “Nothing. Talking to this book. Sorry.” She looked down, skimming many pages until she came to the entry about her mum deciding what to do about her parentage.

 

_ 2nd April, 1978 _

_ I decided to tell James it is his child. I know it is wrong, not just to Severus, but to James as well, to force him to care for a child that is not his. However, I feel terrible that I cheated on him, and would hate for him to find out. _

_ Severus is no longer at Spinner’s End. I believe he has gone to  him . I have lost him, I fear, and my heart is shattered. Oh, Sev, why did you do it? Why did you go and break my heart again? What I wouldn’t do to have him back, to share my life and our child’s life with him. He or she should know their brilliant father. It is not fair. _

_ I was prepared to leave James and stay with Severus, and his departure is the most crushing blow I have yet received. _

_ Earlier today James had his usual friends over, the Marauders. The fact that they still use their old monikers makes me ill. So childish. It was a nice time, however. Peter was weird, as he always was, Sirius was an arse, and Remus was kind. I always liked him, having spent so much time with him at Hogwarts when we studied. I will broach the subject of making him the baby’s godfather soon. _

_ A big chunk of the party consisted of baby names. I made a list of names for both genders, names that would go with the surname the baby is  supposed  to have, not “Potter”. My top picks were Skyler for a boy and Selene or possibly Belladonna for a girl. Selene was the goddess of the moon, and we had spent so many nights staring at the moon, mixing potions and enjoying each other’s company. Belladonna also because of our mutual potion skills. Skyler means sheltering, and it fit for Severus’s child in my mind. _

_ Naturally, James was against such elegant names. He wanted ‘simple’, like his and my name. _

_ They were throwing about the most random things, while Remus and I kept looking at each other, wondering why we were friends with these three idiots. _

_ Sirius was getting quite drunk (what was new), when he said, “Name the kid Harley. It’s unisexual.” _

_ “Unisex,” Remus corrected him. “Is your mind ever out of the gutter, Sirius?” _

_ “And why would I name my child that?” I asked. _

_ He shrugged, dark hair brushing his leather jacket like he was Joe Cool. “It’s one kick-arse motorcycle company.” _

_ I was speechless. Name my child after his bloody flying motorcycle? I’d sooner tell James who the child really belongs to! _

 

Harley shook her head, closing the book. She had somehow been named after a motorcycle company from America. What a blow to know her name was so ridiculous. And she would really hate it, knowing that Sirius Black was the one who  _ really  _ named her.

She would’ve liked to have been named ‘Selene’. It was pretty, and much more fitting for a witch than ‘Harley’. ‘Belladonna’ would have fit her perfectly as well. Then again, ‘Skyler’ was a better name for a wizard than ‘Harry’. Harley wanted to get these OWLs over with, because she wanted to start her mother’s journals from the beginning. She wanted to get to know her mother.

She had Charmed the box of journals so that none but she could open it and had taken them into the common room to read in better lighting while the others studied. It was when she got her head out of her mother’s past that she realised someone was moaning.

“Did someone bring a dying cow in here?” she asked. “If anyone did, I bet it was you two.” She gestured to Fred and George.

“Actually, Neville ate too many sweets at dinner,” Harry said. “McGonagall is on her way to deal with him.”

Harley took out her wand and pointed it in the direction of the third-year boys’ dorm and said, “ _ Silencio _ !” Longbottom’s moans stopped immediately.

Before anyone could admonish her, the common room door opened and McGonagall walked in, followed by Professor Snape, who was carrying a flask.

“Where is Mr. Longbottom?” McGonagall asked.

“What’s  _ he  _ doing here?” Harry asked suspiciously.

Before either professor could say anything, Harley said, “You have no respect, Potter. You don’t talk to your professors that way. One warning rule with me, remember?”

Snape looked at her admiringly. “I knew you’d make an excellent prefect, Torrance. Now...where  _ is  _ Longbottom? Miss Granger said he was nearly sobbing with the pain of overindulging on sweets.”

“The ‘excellent prefect’ put a Silencing Charm on him,” Alicia said smugly.

“Oh, Harley,” McGonagall groaned. “Five points from Gryffindor. Don’t do that again. ...And what is in that box? It looks filthy.”

Harley glanced down and said, “Oh, I brought it to put Ron’s rat and Hermione’s cat in. See which one comes out alive. Whichever survives gets to face Longbottom’s toad in the next round.”

Snape coughed, but Harley could have sworn it was actually a laugh he wanted to hide. “Longbottom. In there? This should suffice to calm his stomach, so no need to bother Madam Pomfrey.”

“Yes, straight that way,” McGonagall said, giving Harley one last glance as she followed Snape into the dorm.

Harley glared at Alicia before trying to get back into the journal. Unfortunately, her concentration was broken, and she put the box away with a huff.

As McGonagall and Snape left, the Transfiguration professor said, “By the way, excellent Charm skills, Miss Torrance, especially at a distance. Just...save those skills for class next time.”


	11. Spinner's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harley doesn't find the answers she's looking for at the Hogwart's Library, she takes Fred on a sojourn to a Muggle town called Spinner's End during their summer holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love music, and I always pictured Severus and Lily being music fans as well. So that's pretty much the only reason this chapter exists haha. Enjoy!

Harley had no idea what had gone on with Sirius Black until long after her brother and Hermione had used the Time Turner (not that she knew they used it). All she knew was that Black had escaped on the back of a semi-rabid hippogriff and there was something about Hermione repeating, “You attacked a teacher!”

“You ought to be grateful,” Harley commented. “By rights, Professor Snape should have expelled all three of you.”

He glanced at Harley and then back at the teacher’s table. Remus Lupin was not there, and Harley wondered if he was all right.

“Lupin’s gone,” she commented. “Was that why I heard unusually loud  _ wolf  _ howls coming from the Forbidden Forest last night?”

“Word got out,” Harry said glumly. “He’s leaving, thanks to  _ someone  _ who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” He glowered at Professor Snape, who pretended he didn’t feel the angry glare directed at him.

“He was right to inform the parents,” Harley said. “Lupin was nice and a great teacher. However, look what happened when he forgot his Wolfsbane Potion just one time. You all could have died because of him...you  _ would  _ have died if Professor Snape had not been there. It isn’t Lupin’s fault, of course, but this is for the best.”

“How could you say that?” Harry asked. “He’s your godfather!”

“Yes, and he also thinks I might become a Dark Lord supporter, so let’s just say not having his eyes on me constantly is going to be a relief.” Harley looked down at her plate. She would have liked a relationship with her godfather, to be able to hear stories about her mum. “And what about your criminal godfather? Run off miraculously with Buckbeak?”

Harry looked sheepish and did not respond.

“You let him go, didn’t you?” Harley continued, her voice low so no one could overhear aside from their present company.

“It’s a long story, Harley,” Hermione said. “And hard to tell right now.” She gestured to Dumbledore, who had now turned his attention to the Gryffindor table.

Harley and the other fifth years stood. It was OWL day, and nearly the end of term. For once, Harley couldn’t wait to get out of Hogwarts. She had a lot of research to do on a certain Eileen Prince.

“Harry?” She asked, later that night, once her tests had been taken. “I know you and I are not the best of friends, but I could really use a favour right now.”

“That depends,” Harry said.

“I need to borrow your cloak.”

“What? Why?” He asked, alarmed.

She held a hand up. “I’m not going to turn it in. I just need to borrow it and that map of yours that the twins gave you. I found my grandmother’s name, my father’s mother. I want to research her in the student records, and those are in the restricted area. I tried getting McGonagall to give me a waver to get in, but she refused.”

“What about Snape? He seems like he’d give you the whole library if you asked,” Harry said, almost as an accusation.

“What would I tell him? He teaches  _ Potions _ . There’s nothing I’d need from him in the restricted section of the library.”

Harry said, “I’ll give you the cloak but I bet you won’t be able to get the map to work.” He handed her both.

“Well, how does the map work?” She wondered.

He just smiled, acting quite like an infuriating baby brother.

Harley took out her wand and said, “Reveal.” Just like with Snape, the map started spewing out insults.

_ “Mr. Moony would like to express his disappointment that Lily’s daughter doesn't know how to open this map.” _

_ “Mr. Padfoot thinks Snivellus’s daughter should put this down and go home to Daddy and You-Know-Who.” _

_ “Mr. Wormtail says Snivellus’s daughter doesn’t deserve to know the map’s secrets.” _

_ “Mr. Prongs thinks it’s a shame she doesn’t have more of her mother’s qualities and tried to open this map the same way her no-good father did.” _

Harley’s mouth dropped. “What the bloody Hell? These four men can go you-know-what themselves!” She shoved the map back at Harry. “Keep this damn thing. I will not need it if I have your cloak.”

It was their last night at Hogwarts, and she figured security in the halls and library would be light. She did not want to be caught as she took the cloak and her wand to get down the the library, trying to forget the insults that idiotic map had spewed at her.

After searching for a while, she found a large book with old student records. Her parents had been born in 1960, so Eileen Prince had to have been a student in the decade before, if not earlier.

She leafed through pages and finally found a small entry.

“Prince, Eileen. Pureblood. Student from 1951-1958. Resident of Spinner’s End. Slytherin Prefect and Head Girl. Deceased as of 1980. President of the Gobstones Club. Mother of one. Husband (Muggle) also deceased.”

Harley sighed.  _ Mother of one? Mother of  _ whom _ , damn it? What a waste of an Invisibility Cloak!  _ This gave her no new information, and there were no “Prince” students during the years that Lily Evans had attended Hogwarts. Eileen’s husband had been a Muggle, and they hadn’t even named him, or the child!

It looked like it would be off to Spinner’s End during the summer holiday.

 

****

 

Harley was never so glad that her house in Surrey had a fireplace than she did when she realised she could use Floo Powder to travel quickly. Obtaining some from Fred before leaving Hogwarts, she saved it for the day she might want to escape Muggle boredom. And indeed, Muggle life was getting more and more dull with each passing year she was at Hogwarts.

It was during a conversation her parents were having over breakfast about insurance sales that she had had enough. She told them she was meeting schoolmates, but they certainly did not expect her to stand in the fireplace, drop some powder on the floor, and shout “The Burrow” in order to meet said friends. The last thing she saw before she was swooped up was there identical incredulous faces.

She arrived at The Burrow dizzy and disoriented. Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley was there to sit her down until the dizziness passed.

“It is so good to have you here,” she simpered. “I assume you’re here to see Fred?”

“Well, yes, and George of course. If Ron is available,” she said. “It is nice to see you as well, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Please, dear, call me Molly.”

Fred, George, and Ron bounded down the stairs. “Hey, are you coming to the game with us, too?”

“Pardon?” Harley asked.

“The Quidditch World Cup! We’re all going in two days,” Ron explained.

“I was just going to send you an owl,” Fred said, waving an envelope. “Harry and Hermione are here already, upstairs. Please come! I know you’re not a huge Quidditch fan, but this is apparently the equivalent of the Superbowl for American Muggles.”

Harley hesitated. She really had wanted to check out Spinner’s End, but how could she deny that she wanted to spend time with Fred and the others? They were nice, and she really liked having friends.

She came to  a compromise. “Yes...if you’ll bargain with me. I want you to go somewhere with me, to possibly find my father. If we do it today, it will not interfere with our going,” she said.

He held out a hand. “Deal! Where are we going?”

Harley took out a map of England and showed him a small Muggle town in Cokeworth. “My grandmother lived there, with her Muggle husband. Apparently my father is a half-blood.” She grimaced as she said it. “It’s small, so we can explore and inquire in no time.”

“Perfect, and we can get Bill--my brother, you’ll meet him--to put a Disillusionment Charm on us so we’re not spotted flying there,” he said.

“Flying? Fred, I can barely get my broom off the ground and, once I do, I am usually bucked off or flown upside-down,” she reminded him.

“Fly on the back of my broom. You’re not that heavy,” he said.

“And what about getting home? Perform illegal magic?” She asked, wanting all bases covered.

“Portkey. Dad’s got one in his office.” Fred looked smug and very proud of himself. Harley had to admit, she was proud of him, too.

Harley was introduced to Bill, a tall man with long red hair and a dragon-fang earring. He was certainly dashing, but Harley felt he was nothing compared with her Fred.

“Okay, what exactly will you be doing in this place?” Bill asked warily.

“I want to see if my father is either still in residence in what had been my grandmother’s house, or if any neighbour could give me more information. No one will ever have to know we’re magical, and no magic will need to be performed,” Harley assured him. “I’m bringing him along for moral support.” She pointed at Fred. “And for transportation.”

“Nice to know I have multiple uses,” Fred joked.

After getting on Fred’s broom, her arms tight around his waist, Bill performed the charm, and Harley could no longer see herself, Fred, or their broom.

“I put a timer on the charm,” Bill said. “It should take you about forty-five minutes to get to Spinner’s End. The charm will have worn off by then. Fred, you have the Portkey?”

“Yes, sir,” Fred said, mocking him. “Ready Harley?”

“I am. Your help is appreciated, Bill,” she said as Fred kicked off. Harley discovered that she liked flying...as long as someone else was controlling the broomstick. The wind whipped at her invisible hair and skin, she felt alive and wonderful. It was too bad she couldn’t do this on her own.

Just as they touched down in a small, dinky-looking town, the charm wore off. Hastily, they straightened their windswept appearances before walking down one of the more populated streets.

“Well, what will you do first?” Fred asked. “I don’t know how to locate Muggles, even if a witch lived among them.”

“Town hall,” Harley replied. “I will look up Eileen Prince in their public records, and if I cannot find her or any relations, I will try something else.”

They walked past ramshackle houses and shops till they came to the rather eerie looking town hall. Upon entering, Harley was immediately accosted by a plump, elderly woman in a shimmery fuschia dress.

“I am so sorry,” she said, “but you look so much like someone I once knew when I was a girl. A woman who lived up the way, near the river.”

Harley’s heart gave a leap. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Eileen Prince, would you?”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Oh, but, she married. She wasn’t ‘Prince’ anymore. I can’t remember her married name, but you remind me so of her.”

“I am her granddaughter, ma’am,” Harley said. “I actually came here to discover more information about my family. Her son is my father, you see, but we’ve never met.”

The woman looked as though she might burst. “Oh, you have no idea how it pleases me to see you! Eileen was such a nice lady, and I remember her little boy. Never spoke much, but he was bright. Went away to a special school every year because of his talents, he did!” She scrutinised Harley more. “His father was just awful, the poor lad. I bet your mother was the little redhead who used to be stuck to the boy’s side all summer long. What was her name...Lucy?”

“Lily,” Harley supplied, and the woman beamed again.

“Dear me, but my memory is fading. Yes, that was her. She was a classmate of his, too. I bet you’re just as bright.”

Harley was feeling impatient, but knew she had to play along to get the information she desired. “I go to their same school, as does my boyfriend.” She gestured to Fred.

The lady tittered. “Oh, I see a love of redheads was passed down to you from your father. What was his name? It was strange, too… You know, there’s a small concert hall two streets over. Your parents would go there numerous times during the summer. The doorman is still the same, bless him. He might remember more than I do.”

“One last question...do you recall where they lived?” Harley asked.

The lady gave her the address of a house across town and Harley thanked her, dragging Fred along by the sleeve.

“We don’t have a lot of time. Can I trust you to check out the house without doing anything that could get you in trouble with the police or the Ministry?” She asked him, handing him the address she had scribbled down.

He grinned. “You can count on me.” He kissed her and walked off, while Harley hurried down the street indicated to get to the venue.

Harley loved music, the louder and stranger the better. Knowing both parents loved Muggle music as well made her smile to herself. She wondered who they had gone to see back in the seventies.

It looked like there was a concert there that very night, a band called The Cure, whom Harley actually loved. It was too bad she couldn’t stay for the concert.

She spotted the doorman, and sure enough he looked to be the right age to remember her parents. The crowd was behind a barricade till the doors opened, so he had little to do...except give Harley the information she required. She wished she could have performed Legilimency on the woman, that would have saved her so much time.

“Excuse me?” She said, walking up to the tattooed doorman.

“Line’s back there,” he said without looking up.

“I’m not here for the concert. I was told to come here...you’ve worked this door for decades, correct? So you would know the regulars fairly well?”

He peered at her, mistrustful. “And what do yeh need from me?”

“Do you remember a couple, a teen girl with red hair and a boy with long black hair, who used to come here together during the summers of the mid to late seventies?” Harley asked. “She’d be very bubbly and sweet? He would be a bit dour?”

The man rubbed his bald head, thinking. “Now that yeh mention it, yep. Lily and...damn. He never gave ’is name. I lived near ’is fambly, over on the hills there, by the warehouses. Nasty bit of work, the father. Always yellin’ at the poor boy.”

Had her father been abused? How terrible. “Do you remember anything else, sir?”

He shrugged. “Only that I was always thinkin’ how come a pretty girl like that was goin’ with a boy like him. But she really seemed to love the boy.”

Harley smiled, reminded again how much her parents loved each other. “Thanks. I appreciate your time, sir.” She turned away, walking slowly, hoping that Fred had some good information for her, like the house was inhabited. She stopped and stared at the front of the venue, imagining her teenage parents as well as she could, waiting in this line to attend a show.

“Here for the show, are you, Miss Torrance?”

Harley jumped at being addressed, looking for her addresser. She almost didn’t recognise him: black denim trousers, black boots, a black button down that was a bit rumpled, and a black leather jacket, he did a great job at playing Muggle. It was Professor Snape.

“Professor!” She wanted to ask what he was doing there, but it stood to reason that, if one witch had called this place home, more magical folk would as well. This was not where she had pictured the professor living, however. “No, actually, Fred and I are here on business.”

“Pity. I actually am in town for the concert.” He gestured towards the line. “I assume you are here for things you shouldn’t be looking for?”

“I think you know the answer to that, sir,” she replied, hiding her surprise that the Potion Master listened to Goth rock. “But unless Fred comes back with better information, I have little more to go on except for reassurances that my parents were madly in love.” She also glanced at the venue. “On another note, I wish I’d known about this performance sooner: I love The Cure.”

“Why don’t you and Mr. Weasley come, then? I do not care about breaking Muggle law, I can Duplicate the tickets easily.” And with barely a flick of his wand, he handed her two tickets. The wand was back in his inside pocket before anyone could have seen it.

“I’ll see if he’s willing to bend the rules his mum set for us to be back at a certain time,” Harley said. “Thanks. I could use some fun after this whole trip has been a bust. ...Professor, are you sure you won’t tell me who my father is?”

He gave her a slightly admonishing look. “I think Dumbledore was correct: you must figure it out on your own, Miss Torrance, but I still think you are better off not knowing. I tell you this for your own good.”

She shrugged. It had been worth a try. It was odd seeing him outside of Hogwarts, and clad in Muggle clothes. He didn’t seem like her stern Potion Master at all. “Thank you, sir, for the tickets. I did not know you liked Muggle music.”

“Yes, well, I have a soft spot for music. Did you know, your mother was quite the fan of David Bowie? She Transfigured a cauldron into a record player at Hogwarts once, and plates into records. Dumbledore found he could not punish her for laughing so hard.” Snape did something Harley had never expected from him, he smiled at the memory. “She got half the student body  out of their beds and into the Great Hall that night.”

“Including you, sir?” Harley asked.

He nodded. “Myself, Lucius Malfoy, the Black sisters, and Potter and his friends. Many others. Not one of us got detention, and your mother, Potter, and myself were prefects at the time. Others were, too. Even Dumbledore came down, and he was already Headmaster.” He glanced at the line, which had begun to move. “I will see you inside, Miss Torrance.”

“See you, Professor.”

The line had moved almost all the way inside by the time Fred got back, half an hour later.

“What happened to you?” Harley asked. “You’ve been gone quite some time.”

“Oh. The house is this rickety brick building. Doesn’t look inhabited at all,” Fred said. “Sorry this trip didn’t give you your answers.” He put an arm around her shoulder.

“That’s okay. I honestly didn’t expect much. ...But, look: I have concert tickets! Want to break the rules, Weasley?” She held up her tickets.

“Sweet! Mum will kill us,” he warned.

“I’m not afraid of your mother,” Harley said, getting to the end of the line and quickly getting into the venue, which was packed full of diehard fans attending what had been a secret show for the popular Goth band.

“I am  _ not  _ dressed properly,” Fred said, looking around at the black-clad audience, and then down at his mint green t-shirt, darker green jacket, and jeans. “I stick out like Dumbledore would in a Muggle courtroom!”

Harley chuckled, picturing that. She swirled around to the beat of the opening act and kissed Fred. “I like that you stick out. I like you just the way you are. Come on, let’s dance.” She felt what must have been her mother’s influence this night.

Harley pulled Fred to the dance floor, not that she knew how to dance. The concert was so much fun, and Harley wished the night would never come to an end. Mid song, Fred left to go and get some water, and Harley waited at the edge of the writhing crowd for him. She spotted Professor Snape from the corner of her eye, standing to the left of the stage. He caught her eye and nodded his head to her in acknowledgement.

_ How easy it would be if he was my father _ , she thought.


	12. A Sirius Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Mark appears at the Quidditch World Cup, Harley gets more advice from Severus, and enter Sirius Black!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes Sirius! Fair warning: he is my least favourite character, and I wrote him exactly how he acts towards people who are not The Trio or Marauders.

Quidditch World Cup. That was not exactly the way Harley wanted to spend her last weekend before school started, but everyone was so caught up in the excitement, she felt it would be rude to refuse the invitation.

The excitement was contagious, and she found herself quite enjoying the game, though she admitted she had no clue what was going on half the time, She also had no idea what everyone liked so much about Viktor Krum. Seemed like a bigheaded jock to her.

The real event happened after the game ended, when the Muggles who had been hanging around were attacked by a group of wizards in black cloaks, masks, and hoods, and a large sign was over the whole field, a skull with a snake from its maw.

“The Dark Mark!” She heard Mr. Weasley saying. He ordered the kids to take cover, and Harley tried taking the best care she could of her younger brother, Ron, and Hermione. She was trying to glean as much information from passing wizards as she could.

By the end of the furtive night, she had found out that those wizards had been Death Eaters, and that they were followers of Voldemort. The symbol was called the Dark Mark, the thing that signified allegiance to the Dark Lord and that his work had been committed by his followers in the place the Mark appeared. Every single Muggle they had had trapped had been murdered with the Killing Curse.

_ The Mark, _ she thought, panicking.  _ Could that be the Mark my mother talked about my father taking? _ She was almost too scared to think it, but if her father had been a half-blood, how could he also be a Death Eater? They were supposed to be  _ pureblood  _ supremacists. Unless he lied about his bloodline…

The talk at Hogwarts was, surprisingly enough, not about the Death Eaters’ appearance after years of dormancy, but about the Triwizard Tournament, to be played with two other European Wizarding academies. Harley had just hit the proper age to enter her name in the Goblet of Fire, not that she was very keen to be a part of this.

Having been prefect, she was only just able to ignore Fred and George working on an ageing potion that would make them just a few months older than they were, knowing that it wouldn’t work anyway.

“If you guys paid half this much attention in Potions, you both would have passed your OWLs,” she told them. Only Fred passed. “You are brilliant, but you never apply yourselves.”

Watching them turn eighty years old from the barrier Dumbledore had around the Goblet made even Harley, who had had a lot on her mind since the World Cup, burst into laughter. “Fred, I thought  _ we  _ were supposed to grow old together,” she teased, still giggling.

Before the names had been announced for who was competing in the Tournament, the announcements for the Yule Ball and the cancellation of Quidditch were made, and very few people were pleased with having no Quidditch all year long.

“How will we get points?” Ron demanded angrily.

“Perhaps you will behave yourselves and do well in classes in order to earn your House points,” Snape suggested sarcastically.

The Slytherin table laughed, and Harley hid her grin after a dirty look from Hermione.

The night Harry was chosen to participate in the Cup, despite his being underage and having not entered, he wanted a distraction.

“Harley, tell me about your father,” he said.

“Why?” Harley asked, not prepared for his sudden interest in the man his mother had cheated on his father with.

“I have an idea,” was all he would say.

Harley prattled on about her father, leaving out a few things. She talked about his appearance, his skills, and left some things out, like the fact that he was half Muggle, and his mother’s name.

“I have an idea on our next Hogsmeade trip,” Harry said. “Just wait. I think I might know who he is...even if that fact would completely kill me.”

“How would you know, when I have more information than I have given you and yet I still have not found him?” Harley demanded.

Harry just grinned at her, infuriating her even more.

To top it off, she did not like the new DADA teacher whatsoever. A former Auror for the Ministry, Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody did not strike her as a stand-up character. He might be well informed on the subject he had been hired to teach, but there was something that didn’t add up about him. She wondered if there was anyone she could tell of her suspicions without them thinking she was simply missing her godfather.

Harry’s first task for the Tournament was to face dragons. Harley had heard that Hagrid had given him a head’s up on the task, which was nice of him, but what good would it do? No one had studied dragons very much, aside from the baby dragon that the three had helped him smuggle away with Charlie Weasley.

On the night before Harry’s task, she was called into a meeting with Professor Snape.

“Good evening, Professor,” she said. “You needed to see me?”

“Yes, please sit.” The professor watched her as she settled herself into her chair. “I wanted to speak with you about your OWL results. ...Have some tea.”

He flicked his wand almost carelessly, and the teapot began to pour itself into two cups on his desk. It looked as if he could use nonverbal spells, even for ones they taught first-years to say aloud.

“Thank you,” Harley said.

“First of all, congratulations. All ‘Outstanding’ except for an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Transfiguration. I would say I was impressed, but I always knew your scores would be exceptional, considering that you had a brilliant mother and your father did excel in his classes as well. She’d be ecstatic to see you now.”

“Thank you. I can say that I enjoy my classes very much, sir, yours in particular.”

He nodded at the compliment and continued, “I was wondering if you had given any more thought to your career over the summer.”

She nodded. “I did. While I don’t think that being an Auror is quite my thing, a Healer is now also out of the question, thanks to my Transfiguration grade.”

“And what about running your own shop? Is that still something you would like to work towards after next year?” Snape asked.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I actually gave it a lot of thought over the summer.”

“You mean in between sneaking off to Spinner’s End and going to the Quidditch World Cup?” Snape asked, and again she could have sworn he hid a smile behind his teacup.

She smiled as well. “Yes. I was wondering what the protocol was for holding businesses. I know in the Muggle world, buying a building is first come, first served, you know? Unless you have a considerable amount of money to place on it, most owners will not put a building on hold like the last copy of the new Stephen King hardback at Waterstones.”

Snape looked surprised. “Your mother loved that man. She loaned me her copy of   _ Carrie  _ once. Still my favourite Muggle novel, and I don’t find much of what they do to be entertaining in the slightest.”

“Except for The Cure and David Bowie records,” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Aside, I understand that someone not even seventeen years old has little chance of acquiring a place of business, particularly since you’re still in your sixth year of Hogwarts. However, I will make a call at Pippin’s--crazy chit that she is--and see what I can do to have her put a hold on the property.”

“Really, Professor? Thank you so much. That means a lot,” Harley said.

“You should have your own place,” Snape said. “A place to brew new things, find different ways of brewing things. A brilliant mind like yours, I am convinced that is the only profession with which you would not be bored.”

Harley felt like she had won a million Galleons. She knew praise from Snape was rare and grudgingly given. To have him saying so much about her so plainly, it was better than all the OWLs she’d earned. Better than finding information on her father.

“I also would like to extend an offer to you. Dumbledore approved: if you have a free day, you may use my classroom and storeroom to work on personal Potions projects. However, you are not to tell anyone. Normally, this is not allowed,” he told her. “And you cannot use any of them to harm your classmates. We don’t want a repeat of your snakeskin brew. If I have a free evening I will also assist in giving you some extra lessons, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, sir. I would love to learn more from you. And please thank the headmaster for me as well,” she said. “Sir, may I ask you about Professor Moody?”

A grimace came on the professor’s face. “Ah, the new Dark Arts professor. Let me stop you now, because I have nothing to say about him that a child can hear,” he said.

“I don’t trust him. I trusted Lupin better even after knowing he was a werewolf,” Harley commented.

“Your godfather and I never liked each other. However, he is a competent professor and generally he is a decent wizard. Moody...I do not trust him, either. Now, if you please, I must finish tomorrow’s lesson plans. There is just enough time for a sixth year class before we see if Potter gets cooked alive.”

Harley couldn’t help it, she smothered laughter behind her hand as she got up. “Goodnight, Professor. I’ll tell my brother you send your regards for tomorrow.”

 

****

 

“ _ Psst _ . Get up!”

Harley had fallen asleep in an armchair one evening after dinner. She was awakened by the three she’d begun to call The Golden Trio: Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione had thrown her cloak atop of her to wake her.

“What the bloody--what do you want?” Harley asked, scrambling to sit up.

“Come on, we’re going to Hogsmeade,” Harry whispered.

“Um, it’s not a designated day for it, and it’s nearly time for everyone to be in bed and for me to make my rounds with...what’s his face...Wood. Oliver Wood,” Harley said.

“I took care of that. I said you were sick and Angelina is filling in for you,” Hermione said. “Come on, hurry, before they get back.”

Harley stood up and said, “Okay, let’s say I’ll go. How are we all sneaking out...oh, no. Not that bloody map of yours! I’ll find Moontails, Paddy, or whomever they are and skin them for those insults!”

“Never mind that. It’s about your father,” Harry said.

“Can’t you tell me a bit more about this harebrained idea of yours before I go risking my good standing sneaking off to Hogsmeade?” Harley asked, putting her long black cloak on.

“No...better wait till we get there,” Ron said.

“But we’ll be seen,” Harley protested.

Hermione shook her head. “I checked, and I think we can all just fit under Harry’s father’s old cloak.”

Harley sighed, having run out of excuses. She watched as Harry put them all under what seemed to be a massive piece of oppressive air, since it was invisible. It was an odd feeling, certainly.

“Hermione, take the front with your Lumos spell. Harley, take the rear and keep the cloak down. Ron...you just keep down,” Harry said.

“What are you going to do?” Harley asked.

“Navigate.” Harry pointed his wand at the map and said, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” The map revealed a detailed floor plan of Hogwarts, including who was where at that exact moment.

“That’s how it works? Man, those four men were gits, but they were great wizards,” Harley said, peering over Harry’s shoulder. “By the by, Ron, I still can’t believe your grubby old rat was a human being. Quite creepy, if you ask me. And you had the nerve to let him get away! I wanted to watch him suffer.”

They walked slowly until they hit the corridor by the crazy suit of armor when Harry said, “Behind him. Behind the armor, quick!”

It was Professor Snape, talking with Dumbledore. “I am simply saying that, while he is an educator here, he should not be investigating into other professors’ lives. He is not an Auror any longer. It is rather unsettling,” Snape was saying.

Dumbledore nodded. “I will speak with him, Severus. I understand that he has been aggravating Minerva as well, what with Transfiguring students. ...And how has Miss Torrance been coming along? Her grades are outstanding, as they should be.”

“She is her mother’s daughter,” Snape said stiffly. Harley could have sworn that Dumbledore looked right at the four of them, hidden behind the suit of armor.

“And her father’s,” Dumbledore added. “She used _sectumsempra_ last year.”

Snape’s already sharp features sharpened even more. “So Lupin said.”

“I am not saying anything by it,” Dumbledore said. “It was her only offence, aside from the Muggle-born slur incident. I was actually trying to say that she has brilliance in more areas than just the ones Lily was good at. The point I am trying to make is that you have done wonders with her. Kept her away from the Dark, encouraged her, and you have been a wonderful f--”

“Enough, please. I am tired, Albus.” Snape’s voice was thick.

“Of course you are… Well, goodnight, Severus.” Dumbledore gave one last look at the foursome and walked away, causing Snape to give a quizzical glance at the spot where the group was sequestered under the cloak.

The Potions Master took what looked like a photograph out of his pocket, looked at it for a moment, and then walked away.

“That was close,” Ron gasped.

“Moody is Transfiguring students?” Harley asked as they continued walking.

“Just Malfoy, and he deserved it,” Harry said. “So, what’s with you and Snape?”

“Nothing. He’s helping me with my careers options,” Harley said as they approached the secret passageway that would take them to Hogsmeade. “If I get caught, I’m killing you all.”

They got out of the long passage in a dark, drafty room. The Shrieking Shack. “Why on Earth are we in  _ here _ ?” Harley asked.

“Hang on… Hey, are you here?” Harry called. “It’s us.”

From around a corner appeared a thin man with long hair and a ragtag appearance. However, it was easy for Harley to recognize the accused killer Sirius Black. Having not heard the entire story, except that Ron’s Animagus rat had framed Sirius, Harley was still on edge, raising her wand in self protection.

In return, Black raised his wand as well.

“What on Earth were you thinking, Potter?” Harley asked. “He’s a wanted criminal!”

“I told you, he was framed,” Harry insisted.

“Sure, you told  _ me _ . You did not tell any authorities, did you? We could all go to Azkaban just for being here right now,” she pointed out, still holding her wand on Black, unable to quite believe that he was totally innocent. Even if he had not committed the murders he had been accused of, he had been in Azkaban for twelve years. That could destroy one’s mind.

Black smirked. “It’s okay, Harry. I wouldn’t expect anything else from her.”

“Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?” Harley asked.

“Both of you, put your wands down,” Hermione hissed. “This isn’t a duel!”

Harley waited until Black had lowered his wand before she stuck hers back into her pocket. She and Black stared at each other. Harley had a valid reason for not wanting to trust him, but why was he looking at her as if she were a bug he had discovered smashed under his shoes? What had she done to him?

Black kept smirking. “When you walked in, I was momentarily taken back to my own Hogwarts days, when your father would follow us around, suspicious, always ready to hex us or tell on us.”

“Wait...we thought  _ you  _ might be her father,” Harry said, confused. “How do you even know she doesn’t know him?”

“I didn’t, until just now. However, to someone who spent seven years at Hogwarts with the man, it is a little difficult not to recognise his very spirit in  _ her _ .” Black said ‘her’ as if it were a swearword. “You walked in, and before I registered that you were a girl--thankfully with your mother’s facial features--I had a severe sense of deja vu. We always suspected that you weren’t James’s when you were a baby. Those black eyes. If Snivellus has never told you he’s your father, the better it is for you, kid.”

Harley itched to take her wand out again and  _ Crucio  _ him into oblivion. “Snivellus” was the name they had used in the map as well, and the way he said it aloud made her realise that it was not a name, but a cruel moniker they used to bully her father. Who did he think he was to speak to and of her like that? “Look, Black, I do not know what you have against me or my father. I do not even know him. I see no reason for you to speak to me the way you are, because you certainly do not know me.”

Black advanced a few steps, but Harley refused to draw her wand unless he did. “You wouldn’t see why.”

“If you’re simply seeing my father’s genes, that is not my fault, Black. Do not act as if you know me. You know nothing,” she said.

“I know more than you do. Your father was a rotten boy, and he grew up to be an equally awful man. Just in the way you stand I can tell you’re just like him. Poor Lily. She would be so disappointed to see this,” Black said, causing Harley’s mouth to drop. Hadn’t Snape just told her how proud her mother would be of her?

"And if you knew all along I wasn't James', why did no one tell him? Couldn't break his poor bloody heart?" Harley asked defiantly.

"No, we couldn't admit that Lily left a great man like James for a git like your father!"

“Sirius, stop,” Harry said. “Look, Harley is a good person. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Yet,” Black said ominously. “By the time your father was in his fifth year, he was already making up Dark spells, ruining friendships, discriminating against Muggle-borns even though he himself was the son of a Muggle.”

“Do you know how I know that you’re exaggerating on how bad my father is and was?” Harley asked. “It’s because I know that my mother would never have been in love with him. She never would have trusted him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid,” Black said.

“I know more than you think,” Harley said.

He sneered. “So arrogant. So superior. I give you till next year, and you’ll be exactly how your father was. Harry, if you trust me, you’ll sever ties with her right now. She’s a Dark witch, she’s got Dark blood in her. You’ll see. She’ll have a Dark Mark before she leaves the school, just like her  _ dear  _ father.”

Harley felt victimised, utterly shattered. No one had ever spoken directly to her that way before, and to tell her own brother to never speak to her again… She backed up, reaching down for the map Harry had forgotten to close, and his Invisibility Cloak.

“Harry, you dragged me out here only to be ridiculed and bullied by this son of a bitch. I am going back to the castle. Either you three are coming with me, or I will be taking your map and your cloak. Once I’m back in the castle, I am turning them in.” she said.

“You’re overreacting,” Ron said, his voice almost pleading. “Let’s start this over.”

Harley shook her head. “Nothing will make me forget the venom he spewed at me. Can I tell you something, Black? I have spent my entire life being bullied. I have been verbally abused by classmates in the Muggle world and in the Wizarding World. Do you want to know what I think? I think that it isn’t your genes, your heritage, that turn you bad. It is that desire for revenge, the desire to see your tormentors suffer the same way they made you suffer.

“And I also think that you cannot stand there and talk about what a bad man my father is without taking a look at yourself, bullying a teenage girl. You are a waste of breath, Black, and if this is how you treated my father, it is no wonder he’d want to hex you.”

She turned on her heel, and was surprised that Hermione and Ron followed her. Harry was standing still, looking between Harley and Sirius.

“Go. She’s not kidding about taking your things and turning you in,” Sirius said.

“Dumbledore knows I have both of them,” Harry said defiantly.

“Professor Snape doesn’t,” Harley reminded him. “Nor does McGonagall.”

Harry blanched, and Harley took a perverse pleasure in the expression of horror on his face. His mutual dislike with Snape was legendary in the Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses, and of course there wasn’t a witch or wizard on Earth who’d want to cross McGonagall.

Black’s grimace deepened. “Like father like daughter. Go, Harry. Don’t get in trouble on my account. We’ll see each other soon. And good luck with the next task.”

Harley barely waited for Harry to be under the cloak before she led them back to Hogwarts, not consulting the map so she could walk faster. Once they had got to the common room, she threw the cloak and map on the floor, whipping her own black cloak off in frustration.

“Harley, wait,” Harry called. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why Sirius would act that way.”

She glared at him. “I don’t want to hear it, Potter. I realise it is not your fault, per se, but I am your sister, and you should have stuck up for me back there! You allowed that man to belittle me and did not once think to tell him he was wrong to assume I practise the Dark Arts.”

“It wasn’t Harry’s fault,” Ron said. “And who knows, maybe your dad is a real prat.”

“Piss off. All of you.” She went to her dorm and threw herself down on the bed, not bothering to stop the hurt tears from falling down her face.

Little did she know, the insults from Sirius Black were going to be the least of her worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love getting your comments and kudos, it makes my day! Just please, no hate for how I wrote Sirius. As many who dislike Severus show his bad side, I am merely writing Sirius how I see him.


	13. A Prank Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harley is the victim of a deadly prank, the only person who can save her life is Professor Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we all know that Severus came within moments of being killed by the Whomping Willow in a murderous prank from the Marauders had James Potter not stopped it.  
> I wanted to write something similar happening to Harley, but this time the "prankster" does not decide to stop.  
> As a victim of bullying and having seen others badly injured due to bullies who never got their "just desserts" for one reason or another, it was a little difficult to write this chapter.
> 
> It is also written in Severus' POV for about 90% of the chapter, and I loved getting inside his head! Enjoy! xo

Professor Sprout was a brilliant witch, despite being a bit too bubbly for Harley’s liking. However, she did enjoy Herbology class, and this year’s was shaping up to be great. They were learning about poisonous plants, and then, in connection, would be making antidotes for them in Potions class with Snape.

They were working with a deadly plant called conium maculatum, a form of hemlock so deadly that accidentally ingesting one bit of sap or piece of leaf could stop a person’s heart and cause seizures, often nervous system paralysis, ending in death.

“In this lesson, we will be learning how to collect the sap from the base of the plant, the poison of which Professor Snape will teach you how to use to make an antidote for,” Professor Sprout said. “Now, I have done this class every year with the sixth year students for eighteen years, and never once have we had an accident, which is a record,” she said, before passing out gloves and goggles to keep poison out of the student's systems.

Harley studied the directions and began milking the plant with her wand, concentrating particularly hard on the thinner ends. She was concentrating so hard that when she heard her name being called from the righthand side of her, she looked up automatically, opening her mouth to say, “What.” She saw Alicia’s grinning face and tasted something bitter before she felt her body start to seize up, and then she felt and saw nothing at all.

 

****

 

“Professor Snape! Professor Snape,  _ help _ !”

Severus had been walking down the main hall, getting ready to gather the products of Sprout’s sixth year Herbology lesson when he heard two voices screaming his name in unison. He turned, seeing the Weasley twins running as fast as they could, holding an unconscious form between them. His heart stuttered when he saw Harley, foam at her lips and completely limp.

“What happened?” He asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

“Hemlock. Alicia...please, you have to help her!” Fred cried, breathing hard.

Snape took his limp daughter in his arms, giving orders. “George, you go get Dumbledore, immediately. His password is ‘Fizzing Whizbees’. Fred, take this,” he handed him a small key, “and get the antidote from my stores. It is clearly marked. Bring it to Madam Pomfrey’s. Hurry!”

Both boys ran off and Severus dashed as fast as he could to the infirmary, cursing the charm that kept people from Apparating and Disapparating inside of Hogwarts. He burst into the hospital wing, where Pomfrey was attending to a small student who had apparently wandered into the Forbidden Forest.

“What on Earth happened?” Poppy asked, shocked at the sight if Harley, who was now turning an alarming shade of white so pale, she was nearly blue. He deposited her on a bed, loosening her tie more than the twins had and removing her robe so she could breathe easier...not that she was breathing well, in any case.

Fred arrived with a bottle of the antidote a moment before George came with Dumbledore. Severus barely noticed any of them as he dripped out a tablespoon of the antidote and gave it to Harley. He leaned against the hospital cot, watching intently. If he had gotten to her in time, she should start to breathe normally in moments. If he had been too late...he could not think of it.

Harley’s breathing hitched, and she coughed up green foam. Severus turned her over so she would not choke and sighed. This was a good sign...for now. Not noticing the quizzical looks the twins were giving him, he gently cleaned her mouth and shirt of the poisonous residue.

He whirled around, facing Albus and the twins. “What happened to her?” He demanded.

Fred cleared his throat, looking shell-shocked, and said, “We were all just doing our work. Harley was in between Alicia and I, like she normally is. All of a sudden Alicia called her name. I looked up, too, because she and Alicia don’t like each other and it was odd for her to be calling for Harley. Alicia used her wand to send some of the sap right into Harley’s mouth. There might have been a leaf, too.

“Harley just...collapsed. She started having a seizure and we loosened her tie: you’re supposed to do that, I think. And we picked her up to take her here, but then we saw you and knew you had the antidote…” Fred trailed off, looking at her lifeless form. “She’s gonna be okay, isn’t she?”

Severus leaned down, taking Harley’s pulse the Muggle way. “I do not know.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Fred asked, his voice getting smaller.

“The rest of the poison from this particular plant has to go through her system, aided by the antidote. It must be administered every hour, on the hour, lest the poison kill her. If she does not regain consciousness within the next thirty-six hours...she never will.” The professor felt his heartbeat speeding up with panic. “Did Sprout tell the class what would happen if the poison was ingested?”

“Yes, sir,” George said. “She explained that it would most likely kill us, unless you were that fast with the antidote.”

“So the entire class knew that getting the poison into their system was deadly?” Albus asked the boys. They both nodded.

Severus was awash with emotions he had not had in a very long time, remembering a prank pulled on him in his youth, a prank that would have proved deadly had James Potter not decided to stop at the last moment. Why were children so cruel? What had Harley done, beside try and make herself happy? Then again, what had he done at eleven, to be pushed, shoved, and ridiculed by the foursome known as the Marauders? Nothing, yet they targeted him, just as this girl was targeting his daughter. It was not fair.

“You boys go finish your classes,” Albus told the twins. “We will keep the Gryffindors informed on how she is doing.”

“Can’t I stay for a while?” Fred asked, his voice wavering.

Severus shook his head. “No, she needs as much quiet as possible. Go. If anything changes, I will make sure you are notified.”

The two boys left, and Severus did not care if Pomfrey heard as he turned to Dumbledore, his face set and his dark eyes aflame. “Albus, I trust that you will be taking care of this in a most proper manner.”

“I will begin an inquiry and incident report immediately, Severus. Do not worry.” The headmaster looked down at Harley. “She will be okay.”

“For Spinnet’s sake, you better hope so.” He turned his back on his superior, pulling up a visitor’s chair next to Harley’s bed.

“Severus,” Madam Pomfrey said, “you don’t need to stay. I can administer the antidote. It is, after all, my job.” The old witch had the nerve to sound offended.

“I know that you can,” Severus said coolly. “However, you have other patients, and if she does not get the antidote on time, she will surely die. She is, in a sense, my responsibility.”

Pomfrey surprised him by putting a hand on his shoulder. “I know. She’ll be okay: she has a lot of love around her.”

_ Love doesn’t stop death _ , Severus thought, noticing how dark the circles under his daughter’s eyes were. He was very glad it was a weekend without classes, so he could devote all his time to her.

An hour went by and Severus gave her the antidote again, which did not seem to make any difference.

Since he knew she was all right for an hour, he stole away to his quarters to get a special potion that would ensure that he stayed awake for the necessary thirty-six hours, hoping that he would not need to be awake the whole time, that she would get better. The longer she was in the coma, the less likely it was for her to come out of it.

On his way back to the infirmary, he overheard two students whispering, “Did you hear a girl got poisoned today?”

“Did she die?”

“No, but I heard it was attempted murder.”

Severus cleared his throat, “You two, stop gossiping and get to your dorms. Ten points each from Hufflepuff.”

The students ran off and he stalked back to his daughter. He took a sip of his potion to get it working in his system and sat beside her, watching the clock, intent on making sure that she did not miss her next dose.

The student who was ill was sent back to her dorm, healed, and Pomfrey went to bed, to be wakened if necessary. It was just Severus and Harley left in the room, the silence encroaching on him as the grandfather clock ticked the seconds away, seconds that could possibly be her last.

He ran his hands through his greasy black hair, remembering the last time he had felt so helpless, when a different woman was lying dead in his arms. He needed to remind himself that Harley was not dead, and that he had a bit of control over her fate. Unlike Lily, he could very well save her. If he didn’t...then there might not be any coming back from this for him.

Harley was similar to him when he walked down the halls: head high and eyes sharp. The students her own age seemed to dislike her, the younger ones were terrified of her, and anyone else pretended she did not exist. She stood out, whether she wanted to or not. Now, lying there, helpless, she looked so  _ small _ . For the first time since he’d met her, she resembled the child he saw in those photographs.

He was her father, and it was his job to protect her. This was not supposed to happen while she was under his care at Hogwarts. He wanted to tear Alicia Spinnet apart. Harley did not deserve this. She was only a child, she was supposed to be spending the weekend getting ready for the Yule Ball, or studying. On a date with that Weasley boy. Not this. Anything but this.

Severus hated the silence. It gave him too much time and space to think, and for him, thinking was rarely pleasurable. As the wee hours of the morning ticked by, marked by another dose of antidote, he let his mind wander to the night Harley had been conceived, and what he had done in the days afterwards. Leaving, like a coward, going back to Voldemort.

He had been so afraid that he was not good enough for Lily. After all, she had denied his love in favour of James, so why would she want to come back to him? What could he offer her that James didn’t? James was a pureblood, wealthy, handsome...he was everything Severus could never be.

Many times in the years that followed he had regretted not staying with Lily, seeing if it was possible for him to leave the Death Eaters and have the happy life with her that he had envisioned in his youth. Not until he had heard Harley announce her mother’s name had he ever hated himself more for running away, for desiring power and vengeance over love.

He had missed most of his daughter’s life. He could not (or should not) be a part of her future, because of the this new, constant burning in his Dark Mark, reminding him of his sins. All he had was the next two years of her student life at Hogwarts, and he could not bear it if even that was cut short.

From the moment he realised who she was, he had done everything he could to ensure that she would have a long and happy life, unlike the one her mother had had. He had already bought and paid for the shop in Hogsmeade, he had allowed her to practise in his class, and he had given her all the advice he could. He wanted her to stay away from the interests he’d had at her age, and he wanted her to succeed and fulfill her dreams.

He had seen Fred poking around his house at Spinner’s End, and had performed a Memory Charm on him to make him think the house had been abandoned. He hated doing it, but he did not want Harley to have her name tainted by being a part of his Dark legacy.

Finding her standing in the place he and Lily had spent so much time had nearly shattered what self-control he had. Seeing her in the venue had reminded him so of Lily. She was usually so sombre at school, as he had been, he had been ecstatic to see her so vibrant and happy.

Harley did not awaken by the next morning, and Severus cursed himself, though he knew it was not his fault. He had acted as fast as he possibly could have.

His reverie was interrupted by Albus, coming to tell him he was needed in his office. “It will not even take twenty minutes, Severus, so don’t worry about Harley’s dose,” he said when Severus hesitated.

Also in Dumbledore’s office were professors Sprout and McGonagall, both of them looking grave, For Sprout, that was quite a feat.

“We have discussed what to do about Miss Spinnet,” Albus said, gesturing for Severus to sit. He refused, standing near the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “I had Pomona question the other students in the class, and Minerva questioned Miss Spinnet.”

“And?” Severus said, waiting for the point.

Dumbledore sighed, not looking happy. “We have over a dozen students’ words that Alicia was crying, concerned about what had happened.”

“And you also have Fred and George’s word that she was laughing as she poisoned Harley. What is your point?” Severus asked, feeling a nerve in his temple start to throb.

“There is no way we can expel her for malicious intent,” Minerva said. “Fred and George are biased witnesses. Fourteen students can’t be lying that Alicia was truly upset over what had happened.”

“She will be punished, of course, for being so careless,” Albus broke in, as if that made any difference.

Severus spluttered, unable to find the words to express his outrage. “That--this...that is my  _ little girl _ down there, on the verge of death, caused by someone whom you all know has a public animosity towards her, and you are telling me that there is nothing you can do? That chit tried to murder her: she should be in Azkaban!”

“I am sorry,” Albus said, all three of his fellow professors seeming subdued. This was the first time he had ever actually spoken of Harley as his child. He felt the old rage in his chest, the rage that had never really went away from his own childhood.

His tormentors had also never been punished as they should have, either because they were of old, pureblood descent or because of their prowess on the Quidditch field. Or both. It was unfair that Harley was now subjected to the same injustices.

“Sorry will not console anyone when Alicia is living a full life and Harley might…” He cut himself off, unable to finish that sentence. “Fine. You must do what is best for the school, I know. Excuse me, I must be getting back to Harley.” With a sweep of his cloak, he rushed out of the headmaster’s office, his head pounding, a mix of stress and the potion he was taking to stay awake. Wideye Potion as the name of the elixir, and it was only found in forbidden texts. It enabled the user to stay awake indefinitely as long as they took a dose every three hours. The potion was forbidden because it had damaging side effects: hallucinations, dehydration, breathing issues, vomiting, and head trauma that could lead to permanent damage in the body.

He kept a bottle for extreme emergencies, and this, to him, constituted as an emergency. He could not sleep, and possibly miss a dosage that could kill her. He would not rest until he was sure she was all right. If she was never all right, he would be incapable of rest anyway.

People thought him cold and uncaring, and that was what he wanted them to think. It was how he wanted to  _ be _ , especially after Lily’s death. He had grown up in a loveless household where both he and his mother had been abused and broken. And then he had met Lily Evans, and he knew what love was. When she went to James Potter instead of him, he vowed to never feel anything again. When she died, he doubled that vow, so he did not have to feel the gaping hole in his heart. Which was why he treated Harry as he did: because to feel anything for the little boy with his mother’s eyes--the Chosen One--would only lead to more heartache.

However, when Harley came into his life with her mother’s laugh and smile, he was lost again in a new kind of love, a kind he had never expected to know: the deep love of a parent.

He was passing the Gryffindor common room, with its portrait of the Fat Lady, when he was stopped by Fred Weasley, who looked as if he had gotten less rest than Severus himself had.

“Professor...how is she?” Fred asked, his voice watery.

“Nothing  yet, Mr. Weasley. I am on my way back to her now,” Severus said.

“Did you hear they’re only taking fifty points from Alicia and making her miss the Ball and Tournament?” Fred sounded incredulous. “As if that’s going to make up for nearly killing my girlfriend! She got everyone to lie for her to McGonagall and Sprout.”

Severus was afraid to respond. “I cannot comment on that. It is up to the headmaster to decide what is a fair punishment. I really must be getting back to her.”

“Wait! Um, Hermione was talking about how a Muggle custom says that reading to someone in a coma helps them.” He handed the professor a book. “She has this box Charmed so no one can get in, but she’d left this on her bed before class yesterday.”

“It is not my job to read to invalids,” was what passed through his mind, what he would have said under any other circumstances, if this was anyone but Harley. All he did was nod and take the book, which was one of Lily’s journals.

Upon entering the sickroom, he noted that it had been a full twenty-four hours that Harley had been poisoned. Twelve more hours to go, and if she did not awaken...he feared to think of it. He did not open the journal. He refused to invade Lily’s privacy. He had hurt her enough.

He did take Fred’s words to heart, and when he was sure Pomfrey had left, he began to talk to Harley, reliving memories he had not thought of in over a decade.

“Your mum was the sweetest, kindest person. She was naturally beautiful, but even more so because of the beauty in her heart. I was, and still am, madly in love with her. The moment we met I was captivated by her light. I would have died for her had she asked me to. We were inseparable, she and I. I do not know why she ever liked me, or spent time with me, but she and she alone made my childhood bearable.

“You remind me so much of her. That light, you have that light, Harley. That smile that brightens a room. I wish I had not been your father, so that you could have more of that goodness in you. But you even took my traits and made them good. I am so proud of you, proud to have you as my daughter.”

A few heartbeats passed, and Severus realised he was crying, slow tears leaking from his dark eyes.

“You inherited your love of Muggle music from us both. Your mother and I spent so much time dancing together. She taught me how to ballroom dance, you know. She taught me so many things, including how to love. However, dancing might have been the hardest thing she taught me.” He smiled at the memory.

_ “Sev, you need to move counter to me!” _

_ “I’m too busy watching you to pay attention.” _

_ “Well, come on: hand on my waist. Hold here, and...turn!” _

_ “Hey, I’m doing it!” _

He took his daughter’s hand and was startled to feel it move in his. He hoped it was a good sign and not a natural reflex. Time was slowly running out, and he could not bear to lose another loved one.

Beneath the concern about Harley, there was the burning of the Dark Mark, something that had not happened in over a decade since Voldemort was defeated. Was he gaining power again? Would he return to take away whatever happiness Severus had left?

He needed to tell Albus, and make sure that Mad-Eye was nowhere nearby when he did. Few people knew that Severus was a double agent, a member of the Order of the Phoenix who was able to successfully infiltrate the other Death Eaters as one of them...because he  _ had  _ been one of them. Mad-Eye was a member of the Order as well, but something about the way he was acting now was unnerving Severus.

As he was musing about his burning Mark and the way Moody was acting, he heard the subtle shift of a body on rough sheets. He looked up and felt his heart leap: Harley was moving! He checked the clock: she had woken up a mere two hours before the thirty-six hour mark.

“Harley?” He said softly, so as not to startle her. “Can you hear me?”

She struggled to open eyes that must have been heavy-lidded. “Professor? Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital wing,” he said, still quiet.

Shifting, she tried sitting up.

“Wait, you are still quite weak.” Severus stood up, a hand behind her back to help her sit up against her pillows.

“I can’t believe she tried to kill me,” Harley said, her voice hoarse.

Severus waved his wand--” _ Aguamenti _ ”--and a glass of water appeared, which he held to her so she could drink. “Rest a bit, Harley, before we discuss this.”

She shook her head, as stubborn as her mother had been. “No, that bitch tried to poison me...sorry, Professor.”

“I have heard worse,” he said dryly.

“Sprout had just finished saying how dangerous this was, and she…” Harley punched the side of the cot. “Even  _ I _ never thought of killing her, and I have more reason to hate her than she does me.”

Severus privately agreed. “You should know, they are calling it a prank gone wrong.”

Harley closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip. “She’s lucky I am too weak to get out of bed and watch her bleed to death with that curse.”

He pulled her blanket over her and said, “You will be fine soon. Get your rest: Fred and George are eager to see you. They have been asking after you...particularly Fred. They saved you by getting you to me so quickly.”

She smiled. “You and Fred are the only reasons I even came back here, sir.”

He simply patted her hand, holding it lightly until Harley fell back asleep.

Severus waited until the sun was rising on that Sunday morning before he left Harley’s side, certain that she was merely sleeping. He watched her as she smiled in her slumber and then left, hoping to sleep off the effects of Wideye so he could be aware at his classes on Monday.

 

****

 

Harley woke up on Sunday morning feeling sore and weak, as if she had slept for a month. Indeed, she realised she had slept for nearly two whole days judging by the calendar. That damned Alicia, getting off with a proverbial slap on the wrist, when she had clearly aimed to kill her!

“Ah, you’re awake again,” said Madam Pomfrey, taking her out of her anger. “Everyone was so worried about you, Miss Torrance. It was touch and go for a while.”

She sat up in bed, taking the proffered glass of water. She noticed one of her mother’s journals and two phials on the table beside her, as well as two used glasses of water, one of which was hers.

“How’d this book get here?”

“Oh, I believe one of the Weasley boys said you had it on your bed, so he gave it to Professor Snape to read to you while you were...not with us,” Pomfrey replied.

“Why give it to Professor Snape?” Harley asked.

“Oh, you don’t know? Sweetie, Severus did not leave your side once until I started work this morning. He gave you the antidote every hour, on the hour. Refused any assistance from me. If he ever wanted to retire from teaching, he could be a wonderful nurse.” She tittered.

Harley sat back against her pillows, dumbstruck. Snape had sat at her bedside for two days straight? Had he not slept? She recalled that he had been there in the small hours of the morning, but it had not hit her tired mind that he had to have been there for longer than that. She glanced at the potions at her bedside. One was an antidote, but the other was unknown to her. She committed the name to memory so she could look it up later on.

Before she could think anymore about her professor, the infirmary door burst open and Fred was at her side, his arms so tight around her it was nearly suffocating.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said.

When he pulled away, Harley kissed him heartily, disregarding the fact that George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also in the room. “I heard you and George saved my life.”

“They did!” Ron said. “Normally I’d make fun of them, but they really did save you.”

“I can’t believe that they’re calling this a bad prank,” George said. “Fred and me,  _ we’re  _ pranksters and we’ve never tried to poison a classmate!”

“How come they’re not doing more to punish her?” Hermione asked.

Harley shrugged. “Merlin knows. Probably can’t possibly admit that a golden girl like her could ever be accused of murder. Had it been me, I would be in Black’s former cell in Azkaban right now.” She rested her head back against the pillows, her body still not feeling its best.

“Never. I’d ride one of those Horntails to rescue you!” Fred said and Harley whacked him weakly.

Was this bright, happy, heroic man really her boyfriend? It seemed almost too good to be true. She brushed his hand with hers and he held it tightly.

“How’s the next task going, Potter?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve almost got it.”

“Uh-huh. You’re terrible at bullshit, brother mine.” She smirked. “Madam Pomfrey? When am I allowed to go back to the dorms...not that I want to sleep in the same room as my would-be killer.”

“Miss Torrance, that’s stepping out of line,” the nurse warned.

“Sure. She poisoned me, but anything I say against her is out of line,” Harley mumbled.

The nurse puttered around before saying, “Professor Snape wants to see you before I can discharge you. A bit overprotective if you ask me.” She walked away mumbling about being capable of doing her own job.

“What kind of homework did I leave?” Harley asked.

“You sure you’re not  _ Hermione’s  _ sister?” Harry asked.

Fred and George shrugged at each other. “Well, Potions and Herbology homework was canceled after what happened. So…”

Harley waved her hand. “You two have no bloody idea. It’s fine.” She glanced down at the journal. “Fred, you gave this to Professor Snape?”

He nodded. “It was on your bed, so I thought maybe he could read to you, like Hermione says they do to Muggles in comas.”

She kissed him again. “You’re sweet.”

Eventually the others left, but Fred stayed, sitting on the edge of her cot and talking to her. They both avoided talking about the poisoning, and instead talked about everything else. He was the only person who could make her laugh and smile without thinking of it, make her feel as though she was not alone.

They heard a noise at the door and saw Professor Snape standing at the threshold.

“Mr. Weasley, I can assume you’ve been here all afternoon?” Snape asked walking in.

Fred nodded.

“How are you, Harley?” The professor asked, walking to the other side of her bed.

“Feeling much better, just a bit sore from laying here for two days, sir. I--thank you for making sure I was well,” she said.

“That is my job,” he said, checking her pupils.

_ No, that’s Pomfrey’s job _ , she thought.  _ Why did you feel the need to watch over me for nearly two days? _

“The antidote worked it’s, if I may use the phrase, magic. If you are not feeling up to going to classes tomorrow, I have already advised McGonagall to let you have a lie in. Glad  to see you awake.” He glided out as quickly as he had come in.


	14. The Music Bpx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley begins to recover from the poisoning, and prepares for the Yule Ball. While out shopping, she finds a magical music box that is the perfect present for the perfect professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the late update! I was up till three in the morning working late last night and again this afternoon.
> 
> Here is a little sweetness to counter the darkness of the last chapter. Enjoy!

Harley did not have a lie in. Indeed, she was already bored out of her mind with one night of bedrest and having Alicia shoot daggers at her with her eyes

“You would think she’d be afraid to look at me, since I survived her assassination attempt,” Harley told Fred as they were walking to Potions that Monday. “Don’t you think she would be worried I would want revenge?”

“I honestly have no idea. I’m the funny guy, remember? You want someone to understand your brooding ideas, you might be better off talking to Snape,” he said, half joking.

They settled down in their seats, Fred and George keeping Harley in between them and away from Alicia.

Snape slammed the door and stalked to the front of the class. “As you know, the antidote lesson was unfortunately cancelled on Friday, and you also have no homework to hand in. I have been teaching this class for thirteen years, and never once have I needed to use that antidote. Not even when I was a  _ student  _ was this necessary. I will be watching you very closely, Spinnet, when you are in this room, since there are numerous poisons here.

“Today we will work on a different antidote, this one counteractive to the potion called Draught of Living Death.” He flicked his wand and the directions appeared on the board in his distinctive, rushed cursive. “Begin.”

Harley concentrated on her potion, smacked Fred when he tried cheating off of her, and effectively ignored Alicia as she tried to glare at Harley from around Fred. At the end of class, Harley was kept back by Snape.

“This is, unfortunately, a headmaster appointed conference,” the Potions Master began. “With what happened over the weekend, Dumbledore is concerned that you might be feeling...vengeful.”

Harley was silent, not wanting to confirm or deny just yet.

“As a former victim of near-deadly pranks, I know precisely how you feel. I know the spells you’re thinking of, and the potions you want to brew. No need to say anything, I know this from experience. I also know that, when you came to this school, Dumbledore trusted me with keeping you from the Dark Arts.

“So far, I like to think that you needed very little guidance from me to stay in the light, but now...now I can imagine what you’re feeling.”

Harley smirked. “Let me get this straight, Professor. You trust me and think that you did not ever need to sway me from the Dark. However, Dumbledore thinks I need constant supervision from you because he does not. Does he think that being a Dark witch is inherited?”

Snape did not break eye contact. “Dumbledore knows your father did much more than  _ dabble  _ in the Dark Arts, and he worries. He likes to think the best of everyone, which is why he made me be your advisor. I have experience in the Dark, enough to warn you away from it. There is no doubt that you’re interested, correct?” He asked.

She nodded. “Of course I am interested. Who wouldn’t want revenge and power?”

“Yes, who wouldn’t?” He stood up, appearing restless. “But it is my responsibility to stop you from following your father’s path.”

“Professor, of course I want revenge. Of course I only got through today by picturing the most vile things being done to Spinnet. Of course I’d love to be able to exact a lot of revenge on all my Muggle tormentors. That’s not the point. The point is, I will not do it. It’s in me to do it, but I know better,” Harley said. “And sir, it should not be your responsibility to keep me safe.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It is, in a way, my responsibility. You are my best student, and you could go down in history as the best potioneer Hogwarts ever produced. I feel personally invested in your future, and I am proud of what you have accomplished so far,” he said.

Harley paused. “You...you are proud of me?” No one had told her that before.

He nodded. “I certainly am. Now, get to your next class before McGonagall takes points from you.” He smiled. “Go prove to everyone that you’re your mother’s daughter.”

Harley went to leave, but turned back. “Sir? Did you read any of my mother’s journal when Fred gave it to you?”

“No, again, it is not mine to read. Why?”

She sighed. “Mum wrote about a ‘Mark”. She capitalised it. Did my father take the Dark Mark? Is that why everyone thinks I’ll be evil, because he was already supporting the Dark Lord when I was conceived?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “However, your father also abandoned the Dark Lord. He is no longer a Death Eater. The Mark remains, but he is not on their side any longer, I can assure you of that. He’s not evil, even though he did some very questionable things. He is not, and neither are you.”

“You still will not tell me, so I can be prepared just in case? You cannot give me anything more on him, Professor?” She asked.

He shook his head. “Go on, Harley, you’re quite late.”

She left his room, her emotions in a tumult. Firstly, she was worried about the fact that her father had been a Death Eater. Second, she was pleased to have heard her favorite professor was proud of her. That meant quite a lot, after everything. Not for the first time, she wished he could have been her father and saved her all of this turmoil.

 

****

 

“The great idiot: he is going to run out of time!” Harley said, waiting for Harry to return from the lake, where the second task had taken place.

“I can’t believe they took Ron and Hermione,” George said. “How are they surviving under there?”

“There’s a gillyweed potion that enables the user to breathe underwater for hours if necessary. Plus, I’m sure they put them under with a sleeping potion,” Harley said. “However, Potter took gillyweed straight: it won’t last so long, especially since he’s awake.”

Harry barely scraped by on time, but he rescued one of the other “captives” as well, which was a good thing since Fleur Delacour had been unable to complete this task. He as usual scraped by on the skin of his teeth. Harley could not believe that he actually thought the professors would have let anyone drown if the Triwizard contestants had failed.

“What a blubbering idiot,” she said. The Tournament seemed fun for most of the spectators, but the sixth years were getting Apparition lessons, and the tasks were starting to interfere with them. Harley was sure that Cedric Diggory would never pass, as he was barely at the lessons these days.

She, Fred, and George were at the top of the class, and everyone seemed surprised, especially with the twins.

“Well, I will need to Apparate to get around to places where there is no Floo Network, won’t I?” Harley said as they went to class. “Merlin knows I cannot fly a broomstick to save my life. I heard there’s a spell you can use to bewitch your broom, but I cannot actually find it.”

After their last Apparition class before their test, Harry was itching to tell them about the conversation he had overheard between Moody and Snape about escaped Death Eaters.

“He was insinuating that Professor Snape was a Death Eater?” Hermione cried.

Harry began talking about Dumbledore’s Pensieve, and how Snape was definitely a former Death Eater.

Harley remained silent, having come to that conclusion herself. It was the only explanation to why he was qualified to teach her about the Dark Arts. If he had been and left, there was reason to believe he was a trustworthy person. The information did not unsettle her as it should have. From the moment she’d met Snape, she had liked and trusted him. This did not change her opinion in any way.

 

****

 

The Yule Ball. Harley was not looking forward to it, but Fred had asked her to go and she couldn’t disappoint him. So on her trip to Hogsmeade she went into the clothing store to find a dress. They had to have dress robes, but she had not packed any due to her, frankly, having no idea what “dress robes” were.

Muggle fiction depicted witches and wizards as dark characters, but until a Muggle went into Gladrags Wizardwear and found out how little black clothing they actually sold, they would always make that mistake.

“What about this?” Ginny Weasley asked, holding up something that made Harley feel ill.

“That looks like someone puked up pygmy puffs,” she replied.

After what seemed like ages, Harley finally found a black, many-petticoated dress with a cloak that attached itself, tight at the wrists with black lace edging the entire thing, laces up the front, tied with a black silk ribbon. The dress was black velvet, silk, and lace.

“Looks like you’re going to a funeral,” Hermione said.

“And yours looks like you took a dip in Volubilis Potion,” Harley replied. “Glad that’s over with. I usually shopped from catalogues and online retailers. The computer made in-person shopping unnecessary most of the time.”

“What’s a computer?” Ginny asked.

“A very complex Muggle device. Your father would go gaga over it, I’m sure.” Harley laughed and walked away. She had one more errand to run on this Hogsmeade trip.

Professor Snape had gone above and beyond his duties as a teacher, and she wanted to get him something to show the thanks she could never verbally express. But the question was...which shop would have products the professor would like? Not J. Pippin’s: that place was a disgrace. A new, special cauldron? A fancy quill? He rarely used quills and a cauldron was so impersonal. Maybe there was something in Dervish & Banges, or a rare herb in Dogweed and Deathcap? No, his stores were more extensive than what they sold.

Her eyes then scanned the front of Dominic Maestro’s. She recalled his fondness for music, and that his memories of her mother had mostly revolved around music as well. Decision made, she went into the noisy, bright shop. There were so many things in there, she wondered what her professor would like.

She knew he probably would not care for an instrument itself. Music memorabilia? No, he preferred Muggle music. Going to the back of the shop, she saw what looked like music boxes encased in glass.

One of them had a large gilded lily atop it, and she asked the shopkeep about it.

“Oh, this is a lovely thing: when you touch it it senses your mood and plays a song that fits perfectly, some even from the Muggle world,” the girl said. “Try it.”

Harley touched it, the lily making her think of her parents, and it began to play a cheesy American song called “Every Rose Has Its Thorn”.

“How much?”

“Twenty-five Galleons.”

“I’ll take it.”

Back at Hogwarts, Harley used a simple bit of magic to wrap the box containing the trinket with green paper and a silver ribbon: Slytherin colours. She then stole away before lights out to give it to Snape, who was probably still in his office despite the late hour.

“Enter,” he called when she knocked. She opened the door and saw that he was looking at something, a photograph, before he shoved it into a drawer. “Good evening. Harley. Did you need something?”

“No, sir,” she said, closing the door and walking up to his desk. “I am not very good with words, particularly kind ones. I think you can tell my social skills are...lacking. In any case, Madam Pomfrey told me what you did when I was poisoned, and I looked up the potion you were taking to stay awake to care for me. Sir, if I may say so, doing that was reckless on your part. You could have become quite seriously ill, all because of me.

“I could not think of what to do to adequately thank you, sir. I saw this today in the music shop in Hogsmeade and wanted to give it to you.” She placed the box before him. “Open it.”

He looked dumbstruck. “I--you did not need to...give me anything. I did what I felt was right to ensure you received the proper care.”

“You have done so much more than that, sir.”

He opened the package, taking out the music box. She watched his harsh face soften when he looked at it.

“I did not know how well you knew my mum, but I thought it fitting. Touch it, the magic is really something,” Harley said.

He placed his fingertips on one of the petals and music began to fill the dark office.

_ “Stone love: she kneels before the grave _

_ A brave son: who gave his life _

_ To save the slogans _

_ That hovers between the headstone and her eyes _

_ For they penetrate her grieving _

_ New love: a boy and girl are talking _

_ New words: that only they can share in _

_ New words: a love so strong it tears their hearts _

_ To sleep: through the fleeting hours of morning” _

It was a beautiful song, and Harley felt herself strangely moved. She could tell it had affected her professor as well, who removed his hand from the flower.

“Your mother’s favourite song,” he said. “Thank you, Harley. This is a most thoughtful gift.” He stood up, reaching into a different drawer of his desk. “You were born on Halloween.”

“Yes, sir, but I decided last year I did not want to celebrate my birthday any longer. It seems disrespectful to my mother.”

“Nonsense,” he snapped. “Your mother would roll in her grave if she knew this. However, I knew that would be your reasoning, so I saved this until I had a moment to speak with you. So far, our conversations have strayed far from that path, and you were very ill over your most recent birthday.” He handed her a small box.

Removing the black paper from the outside, she peered inside and saw a small silver charm bracelet: a potion bottle, cauldron, wand, snake, and lion were dangling between green and black gemstones. Her strengths, and the Houses of her heritage.

“Professor, I can’t possibly accept this.”

“You can, and you should. McGonagall buys her favourites brooms. I prefer things a bit more personal...and more useful.” He smirked but the smile faded.

“Thank you, sir,” Harley put it on and it magically shrank to the perfect size to fit her wrist. “I...my adoptive parents are nice people, they are. But they lack in the way of enthusiasm. It is good at certain times that they are placid people, but there were many times I wished they would have shown some genuine excitement, or were a bit more vocal about their affection, or voiced the fact that they were proud of my accomplishments. Since coming to Hogwarts, you have treated me better than anyone I have ever known...bar my mother, I am sure.” She smiled. “It is nice to know what I’m doing is being noticed.”

He seemed to have no response to that, and she was glad. That was as far as her verbal skills went, and she had stretched them considerably. She waved at him and left the classroom, once again buoyed up by her favourite teacher.


	15. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley attends the Yule Ball and she and Fred grow closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short, sweet chapter, because there is such a sh*tstorm to come for all these characters, they deserve some fun.

The Gryffindor dorm was crowded and stank of perfumes, all bought in Hogsmeade. Dresses and accessories were strewn everywhere, and Harley saw the male students staring at them incredulously. Indeed, she felt silly getting all dolled up like this.

“That’s some dress,” Alicia said smoothly. “Who’s funeral is it?”

Harley glared at her and responded. “I haven’t decided yet, but keep it up: you’re currently in first place.” She was in front of a mirror she’d conjured up, trying to do something with her hair. Alicia and Katie’s old jab had been correct: she did not need Sleekeazy to make her hair straight. It would do absolutely nothing, not even spells worked on it’s slightly too-greasy texture. She looked over at Hermione, who had managed to tame her wild hair and look like a princess.

“Hell with this.” Harley found a thin black band and tied her shoulder-length black hair into a smooth ponytail at the base of her neck. Not great, but with her silver and black makeup it hopefully looked like this was her intended style all along.

She was not a vain person, but being a teenage girl is difficult, especially rooming with three girls who looked flawless even after Quidditch practice. Harley was frequently reminded that she was not pretty, or stylish, or cool in any way, and for one night she wanted to feel good about her appearance.

“Harley,” Hermione asked, “you don’t happen to have any potions you could give me to calm me down, do you? I hadn’t been nervous at all, but this is the biggest Quidditch player ever we’re talking about and I--”

Harley waved her hand and Hermione stopped talking. She couldn’t believe the Silencing Charm worked for her nonverbally. They had just started learning nonverbal spells in DADA, and so far the only people she had seen do wandless magic had been Dumbledore and Snape. “Hermione, he might be able to chase a little gold ball around an arena, but you are one of the best witches of this age. He did not figure out Lupin was a werewolf on his own, he did not figure out how to open the Chamber of Secrets, and he sure as Hell would have had no idea how to get past The Devil’s Snare that you told me about in your first year. Krum should be nervous about going with  _ you _ , not the other way around.”

Hermione grabbed her around the waist and hugged her tightly. “Thank you!”

Harley was about to finish getting ready when she saw that her bracelet was no longer on her wrist. She was not a forgetful person, so had it fallen off?

“Angelina, have you seen my silver bracelet?” She was looking under her bed, knowing it would not be there.

“That charm bracelet? Sorry, no,” the Quidditch Chaser said, looking as flawless as she always did, ready for her date with George.

Harley felt her heart sink. That bracelet was her most treasured possession after her mother’s journals.

“ _ You dumbarse, you’re a witch _ ,” that voice in her mind told her. She raised her wand and said, “ _ Accio _ bracelet!”

From the bed across the room, her bracelet shot out from under a pillow. Alicia’s pillow. Harley put it on and stepped up to face the curly-headed Mudblood, fury singing in her veins.

“Unless you want someone to think I was  _ sleeping  _ with you, I suggest the next time you try and steal my property, you hide it somewhere that can’t be traced back to you. You know, you are lucky I have too much self-respect and fear of Azkaban, or you’d be writhing in pain, begging me for forgiveness right now.” She could picture it, and the thought made her heart race with anticipation, but she refused to use the curse. Instead she lazily pointed her wand at Alicia and said, “ _ Levicorpus _ .” Alicia shrieked and dangled in the air, her robes askew and her hair falling around her.

Harley smirked, watching, while the other girls begged her to let Alicia down. When the bully’s face started to redden from the blood rushing to her head, Harley lifted the spell and left the dorm, refusing to look anyone in the eye. She was glad Alicia was not allowed at the Ball, because she didn’t want to deal with any more of this that evening. She wanted to focus on Fred.

Walking into the common room, she saw Fred, George, and Harry, waiting for their dates. Ron was already heading to the Ravenclaw dorm to meet his date. Fred looked up and the look on his face was priceless. Harley suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“Merlin...I always thought you were beautiful but...wow.” He stepped up to her, as if mesmerised. She blushed as deep as someone of her complexion could. He held his arm out for her to take it. “Shall I escort Milady to yonder ball?” He asked, talking through his nose.

“You may.” Harley was feeling quite shy.

The ball was beautiful, it was easy to forget that this was where they took their daily meals. The Weird Sisters were performing, but Fred laughed and said, “I think I’d prefer The Cure, thanks to you.”

Harley laughed and he pulled her close.

“Let’s dance, love.” He dragged her out onto the floor, mingling with the other students. They saw George dancing with Angelina, and over at the tables, it looked like Harry, Ron, Hermione, and their dates were having a terrible time.

“Ron likes Hermione. It’s obvious, but nobody sees it,” Harley said to Fred.

He snorted laughter. “Oh yeah, they’ll be a great couple: at each other’s throats constantly.”

“Not like us,” Harley said.

Fred looked strangely sombre as he said, “No. Not like us.” He pulled her close and kissed her deeply, holding her as close as clothing allowed. The song changed to a slower number, not quite a waltz, and Fred kept her that close as they swayed around the Great Hall.

“Fred?”

“Hmm?”

“Why...why are you with me?” Harley asked, quiet and nervous.

He pulled away enough to look into her eyes. “I don’t understand: why are you asking me that all of a sudden?”

“I’m not like you. I’m not like any of you, really. I see us together and it looks like a bit of a joke, and every day I think you will finally open your eyes and go be with someone who is better than I am. Brighter than I am,” Harley admitted. “I remember Alicia saying the only way you would date me was if I gave you a love potion, and everyone says they don’t know why my happy, bubbly mum ever dated my dour, Goth father. Sound familiar?”

“Yes. It sounds like your mother looked past the dark exterior and saw something that made her heart sing, the same way I did, from the very moment I met you in Diagon Alley. Now, if I can be rude: shut up if you’re going to keep talking irrationally.”

Harley pretended to be offended and she whacked his arm.

“I love you,” he told her, kissing her nose.

“I love you, too.”

They did not have time to be happy together for long. As the year went on, classes kept going, the Tournament was progressing (with Harry and Cedric in a very comfortable neck and neck lead against Krum and Fleur).

Harley spent her days studying and most every other waking hour was with Fred or spent in Snape’s classroom, practising potions for personal use. She was allowed there in the late evenings because of her prefect status, and that was where Fred found her, one night before the final Triwizard task when everything would fall around their ears. Usually Snape would be with her, teaching her, but he was out of the castle this particular night.

“Hey.”

Harley jumped, having been trying to measure a few leaves to add to her cauldron. “Fred! It’s late and you should not be out. I have been able to not write you up for two years: don’t make me do it tonight.”

Fred closed the door behind him and walked up to where she sat. “What are you working on?”

“This week I wanted to tackle the Wolfsbane Potion. It looks simple, but this is harder than I expected,” she said. “I’m trying to find a way to make the effects permanent, so that infected wizards like Remus don’t ever have to worry about forgetting it. Professor Snape and I have been working very hard on it. It can possibly save hundreds of lives if we can come up with a cure--”

Fred bent over and silenced her with a kiss. He kept kissing her and, though she was in the middle of a possible breakthrough, she waved her wand, clearing the desk. She stood up, and Fred walked around the desk, closing the distance between them.

He moved her so that her back was pressed against Snape’s desk and it was then she realised what was happening.

“Fred…”

“Do you not want to?” He asked, concerned.

“No, I do...but on the professor’s desk? Really?”

“It’s the most private place here right now.”

Harley shrugged. “You know what? Why not? Time to break some rules. Can’t let Potter have all the fun. But...if Professor Snape finds out, I am castrating you the Muggle way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst starts back up soon! Stay tuned.


	16. Harley and the Order Of The Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Voldemort's return, Harley goes to Grimmauld Place to assist the Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, no getting caught for Harley and Fred! I did a time jump here because I didn't see Harley adding anything else to the ending of Goblet Of Fire. She has a bigger part to play in OoTP, which starts here.
> 
> Warning: introduction of WolfStar at the end of this chapter!

Voldemort. He had returned, and yet she was back in Surrey, as if it had been a regular ending to the school year. She wanted to  _ do  _ something. She wanted to take action. She had only been at home a week and yet she had five different potions bubbling in her basement. Her nerves were so bad, she kept Apparating all over the house, thankful that she was of age and had passed her test. She wanted to be proactive, and yet she was sitting in her basement like a twelve year old!

One early evening, she was stirring a cauldron filled with useless cobra venom antidote when she heard the doorbell ring upstairs. She didn’t bother thinking twice about it, not caring much for inane small talk with neighbours.

She heard her mother give a shrill laugh, the kind she used when she was nervous. What visitor could make her mother nervous?

“Harley, come upstairs, please,” her adoptive father called in a strained voice. “Now.”

_ Well, you don’t have to be so bloody nice about it _ , Harley thought as she mounted the stairs. She could hear her mother’s voice faintly.

“...very nice to have you in our home. If we’d had warning, I would have prepared a warmer welcome for you.”

A familiar voice said, “Quite all right, Mrs. Torrance. It is standard protocol to check up on wizards and witches raised by Muggles, to be sure every necessity is being met.”

“Professor Snape?” Harley said, shocked at seeing him--again in Muggle clothes--sitting in their white and seafoam green living room. It was so pale, and he was so stark against the colour scheme, just like she herself was.

“Harley,” he said. “I am very sorry to have disturbed your family.”

“You are not a disturbance, sir,” Harley said.

He took the cup of tea Mrs. Torrance offered him and said to her, “Your daughter is, by far, my best student. She has actually surpassed her age’s skill level significantly. You should be very proud of her accomplishments.”

“Well, uh, you see, Mister…” Mr. Torrance trailed off.

“Snape.”

“Mr. Snape, we would be more enthusiastic if we understood more of it. It was enough of a shock when she made her dolls talk or fly across the room, but now...all of this is really quite over our heads,” he admitted.

“Well, that does not mean that when she tells you she got top honours on her exams you cannot be proud. Many students leave school after their fifth year because they simply cannot pass the exam. She not only passed, but did so well even our headmaster was surprised,” Snape said, his dark eyes sharp. “Harley is not a Muggle-born, but being raised by Muggles means that she might not be as advanced or well recepted by her guardians. Hence the reason for my visit. Seventh year is the most important, as it determines what she will do for the rest of her life. I...and the headmaster...want to be sure everything is as it should be.”

“Well, we have always given her her own space to practise what she does,” Mrs. Torrance said, offended. “Set up the whole basement for her.”

Harley watched this exchange with interest. This was not why Snape was here. He had hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes. This was a pretense for something else, and she knew he had disguised his real reasons for coming by pretending this was a check-up.

“Professor, would you like to see my dungeon? I admit, it’s not as nice as your rooms at Hogwarts, but I made it fairly comfortable,” Harley offered.

He stood up and said, “Certainly. Lead the way.”

Harley led him downstairs, where he was actually stunned for a moment, gazing around her room. His eyes lingered on a photograph of her mother holding her as a baby, and then passed over to where her cat was sleeping in a pet bed, and the cage that held her snake. Her Hogwarts acceptance letter and her OWL results were framed on the walls.

“Why are you here, Professor?” She asked. “No offence, but I know you don’t do home checks on students raised by Muggles after first year.”

He turned to face her, giving the photo one last look. “You are right. I am here to extend an offer from Dumbledore to you. During the Dark Lord’s first rise to power, before he killed your mother and tried to kill your brother, Dumbledore formed an organisation of wizards and witches whose sole intent was to take down the Dark Lord. It is called the Order of the Phoenix.

“In the first incarnation was your mother, stepfather, Lupin, Black, Longbottom’s parents, McGonagall, Moody, and the Weasley parents. A few others. I joined right around the time she died.” He gestured to the picture. “We have never disbanded. Indeed, my post at Hogwarts is almost for the sole purpose of the Order. I will tell you more about that soon.

“No one under seventeen and still a Hogwarts student is allowed to join, but you and some others are going to be allowed to assist in small ways to help the Order fight the Dark Lord. We would like you to spend the remainder of the holiday at our headquarters, and I have a few tasks you can perform to make yourself feel more useful than sitting in your basement.”

Harley laughed. Trust him to know exactly how she had been feeling. “Yes, I do want to help, sir. When do we leave?”

“Not so fast, Harley,” he said. “Firstly, we all believe that the Dark Lord knows nothing about your very existence, thanks to that Charm. However, in the event that your relation to Potter comes to his attention--or the fact that your father was a Death Eater--we need to have your adoptive parents protected. That means that you can never return here. Their memories must be wiped clean of you.”

Harley did not need to think twice. The Torrances had rescued her from the orphanage, and now it was her turn to protect them. “I understand. Sir, while I pack, would you be willing to perform the charm? Just to make things quicker?”

“Yes, of course.” He went to go upstairs but paused. “By the way, I really do like this room of yours. Have you always had it like this?”

“Since they let me decorate it when I was nine. Well, except Rupert.”

“Rupert?”

“My snake. I didn’t get him until I was thirteen.” Harley smiled and the professor shook his head. “And I didn’t adopt Ash until I was fourteen.” She gestured to the cat.

“I see. Well, come quickly, Harley. There’s not much time to lose.”

Harley packed her usual Hogwarts trunks, and then took a few other things as well, considering that she wouldn’t come back to this house ever again. Finally, taking one last look at the basement where she spent most of her life, she waved her wand and everything disappeared, and it looked like a regular, if very clean, concrete room.

Upstairs, Snape was talking to her parents. He took her aside and handed her a set of keys. “These are for your bank vault. Your inheritance. I had them give me the necessary information. They think they are foster parents, and their last child left for university. It was only your identity I had to erase. All other memories are still intact. Your provisions for the rest of your life can be transferred to Gringotts easily.”

“Thank you, Professor. I have everything I need, so we can get going… Where  _ are  _ we going, again?”

“London. Come.” He led her outside, putting a charm on her luggage so that it carried itself to a small black car.

“We’re driving a Muggle car?” Harley asked, incredulous.

“Never take things at face value, Harley,” he admonished. “Do you recall how Potter and the younger Weasley boy got to school your first year there?”

“They took Mr. Weasley’s flying--oh. The car’s bewitched,” she said. “With what?”

“Well, the same simple things Arthur Weasley is capable of. It turns invisible and flies,” Snape said scornfully, unlocking the car, holding the door so she could get in.

After he got the car invisible and in the air, Harley asked, “So, what is it I can do to assist the Order?”

“Potions. Spells. The older Weasley children will be assisting with spells as well, but you have a knack for this kind of thing. I have a list of potions I’d like you to brew, back at the headquarters, and ingredients as well,” he said. “We have no idea what we are up against. Now, what I am about to tell you goes nowhere but between you, me, and the elder members of the Order. Actually, do not tell them I told you this, either. They do not think children should know too much. My job in the Order is an undercover agent, so to speak.”

“You mean because you used to be a Death Eater? Do not look so surprised, sir. I guessed that when Dumbledore said how much Dark Arts experience you had,” Harley said.

He shook his head. “You’re almost too brilliant sometimes. Yes, I have gone back undercover as a Death Eater. I am not with them frequently, but enough to hopefully gain intel about what we are up against. Right now, things are still quite unsettled. There might be less than twenty Death Eaters in total, and that includes those currently doing time in Azkaban. That is less than the Order dealt with before. However, he might gain more allies as time goes by.

“We believe that the Dark Lord will use the Dementors on his side, which he did before, therefore leading to a mass breakout at Azkaban, but that is some time off yet. He has to be certain that the current Death Eaters are still on his side He has killed many who betrayed him during his...absence. He needs to know we are loyal to him and him alone.”

“What does that mean, sir? What will he make you do to prove your loyalty?”

“That is for Albus and I to worry about. Now, do not tell anyone I told you these things. As a student, it is forbidden to have given you such information,” he revealed.

“Then why tell me, sir?” She asked.

“Because I trust you, and I wanted you to know what I had been, and what I am doing. I want you to know that I will never go back to the Dark Lord’s side, no matter how it may look. I would never betray her like that.” His face darkened.

“Betray whom, sir?”

He did not respond, as they were getting ready to land. Once Snape had parked the car and made it visible, he got Harley’s luggage from the trunk and told her to look.

“We are going to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.”

“Enchanted building. Hm. Very nice touch. Dumbledore?”

Snape grimaced. “Sirius Black’s mother. Mad old lady she was. Her portrait is permanently stuck to the wall in the house, constantly wailing about blood-traitors and Mudbloods. Makes me thankful I am not staying here. Well, come.”

He showed her how to make the house appear, and they went inside, where they could hear a commotion of some sort.

“Bloody Hell, you could have killed one of us!” Ron cried.

“Come on, we’re stuck in here all summer: give us a break and a chance to try out or new gear,” Fred said. He turned and saw Harley and Snape at the doorway, and he ran straight to her, sweeping her into his arms. “My princess has arrived!”

Harley laughed. “All right, now put me down or I will order your execution!”

Snape just gave them a bewildered look and said, “I will inform everyone else of your arrival.”

“Who is everyone?” Harley asked Fred once he was done kissing her.

“Well, all us Weasleys, minus Charlie and Bill is only here half of the time. Percy is on the Ministry’s side, thinking we’re all batty over here. Hermione is here. Lupin comes and goes, mostly goes. Snape is rarely here. Moody is in and out, as is another Auror, Tonks. Wait till you meet her: she’s really great. Well, and of course Sirius is here. It is his house, after all.”

“Sirius Black? Damnit!”

“Why don’t you like him? You’ve never even met him,” Fred said.

“I did, actually. No love lost from the first time we made eye contact, believe me.” Harley sighed.  _ It’s for the greater good _ , she reminded herself as they walked into the house, which was enormous and must have been gorgeous when it was in use. Now it was dingy and dusty, but it looked like there was at least an effort to clean it up.

“Is Potter here?” She wondered.

“Not yet. He will be. I guess there was some big thing with a Dementor and his nasty cousin, and he has a trial coming up for underage use of magic,” Fred said.

“Well, if he was fighting a Dementor, he’ll get a pardon, of course,” Harley said.

They entered the living room, where a group of people were either cleaning or talking. Or, in the case of Sirius Black, sulking.

She was greeted warmly by the entire Weasley family, and Hermione, who was furtively reading a book. Moody was not there, but there was a pretty girl with pink hair talking with Ginny, whom Harley assumed was “Tonks”.

Snape was talking with Lupin and Black was listening with a sour look on his face. The pureblood heir looked up when Harley entered the room and sneered.

“Well, if it isn’t the Half-Blood Princess,” he said sarcastically.

“What the Hell is the matter with you?” Harley asked. “I have never done anything to you, and yet you are determined to hate me.”

Lupin jumped up, getting between Black, Snape, and Harley, the latter two who were looking like they were going to get their wands out on Black. “He’s just upset at being cooped up in here. Because no one knows he’s really innocent, he can’t be seen out of doors.”

“Not my problem,” Harley snapped. She turned on Black. “If we are to live together, I want to invoke a vow of silence. Unless it is of importance to the Order or someone’s survival, we will not speak to each other. Not to be childish, but to prevent bloodshed.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said.

Snape walked around Lupin and said, “Anything else to discuss?”

“No. We’re good. And thank you, Harley, for agreeing to help us out,” Lupin said.

“Doing my part to keep us all safe,” Harley said.

“Are you most comfortable doing your potions in the cellar?” Snape asked her and she nodded.

“All right. I will prepare the cellar for you and I must be going.” He nodded at Lupin and Harley, and then walked away.

The pink-haired girl stood up. “Always so kind, that Professor Snape.” She grinned and held out a hand to Harley. “Nymphadora Tonks. Call me Tonks.”

Harley took her hand. “Pleasure, I’m sure.”

“You’ll be the fourth girl in our room, not that I sleep here often. I think Snape already sent you things up there,” Tonks said. “All I’ve been hearing from everyone is how great you are. Fred and Remus can’t seem to stop talking about you. Whenever Snape gets in on the conversation, it’s even worse.”

“What was that about potions?” Hermione asked her, noticing how embarrassed she was.

“So I’m not idle, I’ll be making some potions to keep on hand for the Order, since I can’t officially join,” Harley said.

“And when you’re not working, you can help us clean this place up,” Ron said. He was covered in cobwebs and sneezing. “We’ve got a boggart in the study, too, but we’re waiting for Moody to take care of it, just in case.”

“Doxys in the curtains. Great for using in our products,” George said.

Harley’s eyes lit up. “Did you do it? Start everything up?”

The twins grinned. “If Mum wasn’t so keen on us getting our NEWTs, we’d skip seventh year and start the business: Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Fred said proudly. He had confided in her via owl that Harry had given them his Triwizard winnings to start the business. He had done it out of guilt over Cedric and not kindness, but the result was the same: her boyfriend was going to be a successful businessman.

She hugged Fred and said, “I am proud of you. Both of you.”

“Wait till you see our products. We’ll be able to do loads more once we’re back at Hogwarts,” Fred said.

Harley walked through the house, saying hello to Mrs. Weasley and checking the layout of the place. Such a shame: had this place been magnificent, but had been left to rot in disuse. It was only as she was entering a drawing room that she saw something to give her pause: a shriveled, tiny creature that looked a bit like Gollum in  _ The Lord Of The Rings _ .

“What the bloody Hell is this?” she cried, and Sirius strode into the room. His expression was torn between smirking at her discomfort and scowling at the creature, that really didn’t look at all too pleased with Sirius, either.

“That is Kreacher, the family’s house elf,” he said, breaking the silence they had just agreed over.

“I have seen house elves. This looks like it should be put down mercifully,” Harley commented, shuddering.

The thing spewed a few choice insults and only stopped when Sirius threatened it with clothes to set it free.

“Only I can control him: I’m his only rightful master.”

“You do not sound very pleased with that fact,” Harley pointed out.

“Would you be?” He asked, sweeping his hand to indicate this house. “I hated this place, and now I’m confined to it...and bound to that thing.”

“Can’t you set it free? Be rid of it?”

He laughed without mirth. “If I set him free, he could go straight to Voldemort and give him our location. You’re really not as bright as everyone says, are you?”

Harley bit her lip, making it bleed, so she would not respond rudely. “I think we should go back to silence now, Black, or chances are one of us will be dead before the day is over.”

She stole away to the cellar, which Snape had been kind enough to make look very similar to her old basement workspace. True to his word, he had left her many cauldrons and ingredients, along with detailed scrolls of each potion.

“Polyjuice, various antidotes, Veritaserum, Felix Felicis, and...what are these?” They were not copied from any text. In fact, they seemed to be from Snape’s mind only. Potions to close wounds, reattach limbs, something that could turn you temporarily invisible. “I cannot believe he trusts me with all of this.” There was another note at the end of the pile.

“ _ We need protection spells, and that is what everyone thinks you will be working on. However, we also need some offencive spells as well. I trust your creativity. Things similar to sectumsempra and stupefy will be most helpful _ .”

He wanted her to make spells that could be seen as Dark Arts. He trusted that she would not use them against him and the Order, and that meant a lot. It looked like she would have a busy summer.

When she was not brewing potions (eight at a time, and the Felix Felicis was going to have to be moved because it needed to stew for six months), she was upstairs helping everyone clean up their living quarters.

One night she went down to give one of the antidotes a necessary tweak when she heard hushed voices in the drawing room. Not feeling at all bad for eavesdropping, she paused to listen in to their angry words, glad she did not need the Extendable Ears.

“How can you trust them? Either of them?” Sirius hissed.

“Snape has proved that he is on our side many times,” Remus argued. “Without him, we’d have half of the information we do right now.”

“Yeah, and who knows how much information the other side has on us?” Sirius said. “And what about  _ her _ ?”

Remus huffed. “Does the fact that she is Lily’s own flesh and blood mean nothing to you? I admit, I was sceptical of her at first, but by now I know better.”

“She has Dark blood in her! I think we’re making a big mistake,” Sirius said.

“You’re not in charge here. Dumbledore is, and he thinks Harley and Snape are trustworthy. I can take him at his word. Now, can we not talk about this anymore? I don’t have much time before I have to get back, and I didn’t pop in to argue about who’s on our side and who isn’t.”

Sirius sighed. “You’re right. Come here, Moony.”

Had Harley not had such great self-control, she would have fallen with shock at the distinct sounds of kissing from the drawing room area.  _ Well, this is an unexpected development _ , she thought, silently slipping down to the cellar before she heard her godfather doing...well, ungodly things.


	17. Emotions Flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives at Grimmauld Place, and Harley gets into her big sister role when his poor spirits affect the whole Order.  
> Meanwhile, Sirius gives Harley a piece of his mind, which brings her animosity past the boiling point.  
> Severus and Remus are attacked by Dementors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for sticking around everyone!  
> So, a lot of you asked why Sirius and Remus supported James when he gave Lily a love potion. I hope this chapter answers your questions about that.  
> Everyone has a different opinion on Harry's behaviour in OoTP, and mine just happens to be that he never looked beyond his own nose to see why things were unfolding the way they were.  
> Lastly, have a little look inside Severus' mind.  
> Enjoy!

Harry arrived, which should have been a happier occasion than it was. Harley had been a broody teen, but never had she acted like such a prat as Harry was, accusing everyone of not caring about him, flying off the handle at the smallest thing. And, with the exception of Hermione, everyone was simply letting him act like a spoilt toddler. At least Hermione made an attempt to curb his attitude.

Finally, after the older members of the Order had refused to give any more information to the students about Voldemort, Harley had had enough of Harry’s attitude.

“By Merlin, Potter, you are a disgrace,” she snapped. “‘Poor me’, ‘why me’, ‘pay attention to me’. Some bloody hero you are supposed to be. I for one do not feel right putting the entire world’s fate in the hands of an overgrown toddler having a temper tantrum! Do you think any of us likes being out of the loop? Do you think we’re all happy at having to sit on the sidelines? No, we are not, but you do not hear any of us whinging.

“And in the case of Dumbledore, I rather think that he has quite a bit more on his plate than to pop in here every time you need a blankie.”

“Whoa, don’t you  _ dare  _ talk to my godson that way!” Sirius said, standing up.

“Oh, what are you going to do, Black? Give me rabies? I have to live with him, we all do, and this attitude just will not do. And aside, I am his elder sister and I think it is my place to admonish him, since our mother is no longer with us,” Harley said.

Harry had stood up as well, his face red. “Do you have any idea what I went through, Harley? I saw my friend get  _ murdered  _ in front of my eyes!”

Thinking of Severus being a reformed Death Eater, Harley replied, “Yes, you saw death. Needless, painful death. And yet, instead of doing what you can, preparing for the day you can do more, you sit here making us all wish we had earplugs. Stop being infantile and be the hero everyone thinks you are. Others have seen death, Potter, more death than you, and they did not let it stop them from being proactive: it spurred them on to do better.”

Harry was going to respond before he just sighed and stalked away.

No one spoke, though Hermione looked a bit relieved. Finally, Remus said, “Harley, I know what you were trying to say, but your motivational speaking skills could use work. That was mean, unnecessarily so, but maybe it was just what he needed.”

Things were quiet after that. Harry went to his trial and had one Hell of a time trying to get free, though he just managed to escape conviction. Harley kept at it with her potions, the new ones Snape had given her seeming to be working well, and she and Sirius avoided each other as much as possible.

Harley took on an extra project, helping Fred and George extract Doxy venom to use in their products. It was slightly dangerous, and that was why she liked doing it. More of her mother’s Gryffindor influence, she supposed.

Nothing happened until one evening when Harley went upstairs to ask if Crookshanks, Hermione’s fat cat, ever caught any rats. Hermione wasn’t awake, but she hadn’t seen any harm in asking Sirius such a benign question: big mistake.

“What the Hell do you need rats for?” Sirius asked her.

“Practice. Spells and such. Unless you would rather me try them on you.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He sneered.

“For your information, before I went to Hogwarts, I tried out spells on spiders and rats all the time. I actually know what I am doing. I was not out of practice for twelve years,” she said.

“Low blow, kid,” Sirius said. “I might have gone to prison for crimes I didn’t commit, but your father never went, and he murdered more people than Pettigrew did.”

“Do not talk about my father,” Harley said, her voice low. “You do not know anything. Mother loved him, truly loved him, and it was your friend James who tricked her. Did you know? Were you in on it?”

“In on what?” Sirius asked, seeming to actually be confused. Was it possible that he really did not know? Harley had always assumed that James had let his best friend in on his disgusting scheme, but it looked as though she was wrong about that.

“The love potion he gave her in seventh year.”

Sirius scoffed, “And where did you hear that, from Snape?”

“No. I have my mum’s journals. I read it in her own words. She was given a love potion that wore off, and was then renewed after she was pregnant with me,” she said. “He had stopped giving it to her sometime before my brother was born.”

Sirius stood up, not much taller than Harley was, but more intimidating because of the hardships of Azkaban that showed on his face. “ _ Your _ father might have been the one to give her a potion, but not James. You dare talk about him? You  _ dare _ ? Your father is not even half the man James was!”

That felt like a slap in the face for Harley. Sure, she did not know her father, but she felt protective of him anyway, because she knew her mother had loved him. In her mind, that was enough to convince her that he was a good person. She was surprised, however, that Sirius did not know what James had done to her mother.

“You’re rotten. Mum wrote about you, Black. You and you Marauders. All you ever did was bully people who did not do a thing to you. People who did not deserve it. James bullied my mum, he bullied her closest friend, and yet you think it was possible that she forgave and married him? Come on, you are not dumb, Black,” Harley said. “I know bullies like him, and they do not change so easily as he seemed to. Once you behave that way, you always do. And denying what he did is equal to condoning rape!”

“You’re right. I’m not dumb. Which is why I know that James could never do something like that, and why I know that having you and Snape here is a mistake. I don’t care who sticks up for you, and especially him: he is the last person anyone should trust. You spend all your time with him, I’m surprised you don’t have a Dark Mark yet,” Sirius said, doing what he did best: taunt her, goad her into getting deeper into a fight.

“How dare you! After a life filled with teachers who hated me and classmates who despised me, I actually found someone to give me some damn guidance about what was going on in my life. You do not know what that is like, to wake up and know you are unlike everyone you’ve ever known. I was alone, and he was the only person who took interest in me, who cared about me. Who was proud of me. If not for Professor Snape and Fred, I do not know where I would be.

“So, you can talk about my nameless, faceless father. You can talk about me. But do not ever let me hear you talking poorly about the professor again: because if there is one person I feel I could defend with my life, it is him!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Black said. “He is a traitor, a killer, and--”

Harley didn’t let him finish. She had her wand whipped out and a curse at the front of her mouth when two things happened at once that stopped her from speaking: Harry ran into the room, asking what was happening, and the front door opened with a hurried bang.

“A little help over here,” Lupin’s voice called. Black jumped up and went to him, Harry and Harley on his heels as she hid her wand out of sight.

Lupin had been going to check in that day after being away for nearly a week, but he had been a bit late. He looked pale, shaken, but much better than Severus. The professor was bleeding in a few places from having fallen, his eyes were wide and unblinking. His skin was ashen, and his body was trembling so badly, Lupin was supporting his weight.

“Professor! Remus, what happened?” Harley asked, rushing past Black to help her godfather lead the professor inside.

“Dementors. Three of them. We were able to chase them off with Patronus Charms, but they got us both...Snape worse than me,” Remus said as Black bounced around him like a, excuse the phrase, worried puppy dog.

“I said I was fine, Lupin,” Snape growled, but his voice didn’t have the smooth coolness that they had all come to expect. He was shaken, badly.

“No, you are not fine, Professor. Hold on--I have just the thing.” Harley Apparated to the cellar, filling a bottle with a potion she had recently come up with, and Apparated back to the drawing room with the potion, along with the wound-healing serum Snape had given her the recipe for. “Here, sir, drink this.”

“What is it?”

“When you mentioned that the Dark Lord might have Dementors on his side, I came up with this to counteract the effects those things have. Inspired by you, Remus. It’s pure, 100% cocoa bean extract with a mix of St. John’s Wort, Valerian root, and root of Ashwagandha.” As she spoke, she brushed the serum along his bloody skin, watching it repair in an instant.

Snape took the bottle, and Harley saw his hand was trembling. He downed half the bottle in a go, staring blankly at the coffee table. Harley sat next to him, concerned. She had never faced a Dementor, and the thought terrified her. Snape was such a calm, strong wizard: to see him broken like this was disquieting.

“How come you are not so bad off?” Harley asked Lupin.

“Dementors’ powers are stronger the darker your memories are. My dark memories happened secondhand, unless you count when I was bitten. And that was something I was prepared for,” he explained. “Doesn’t mean I won’t eat a bar of chocolate in a few minutes, but I don’t need any of that.”

“He got them quicker than we thought,” Snape said, his voice already a bit stronger. “On another note, the tension in this room is suffocating. What was happening before we got in?”

Harley glared at Sirius from across the room. “Nothing. I was just having a little trust discussion with Padfoot over here.”

“ _ Nothing _ made you pull your wand on my godfather?” Harry asked accusingly. “It isn’t fair that you treat him so badly.”

Harley did not want to argue, not when Snape was so ill. “It is over with. I plan on never returning to said discussion ever again if I can help it.”

Remus went into the kitchen and came back with a Cadbury bar. “So, is everyone asleep?”

“Yes. Most of them were dealing with the boggart earlier, and then the twins set a few doxys free by mistake,” Harley replied.

“And why are you three still up, then?”

“I woke up because I heard them arguing,” Harry said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sirius said.

“Working,” Harley said.

Remus shrugged, looking at the three of them. “Well, I’ll head upstairs and get some sleep. I have to be out early and meet Tonks. Goodnight.”

He went upstairs and Sirius followed. Harley was certain she knew why. She wondered why they kept it a secret. It didn’t seem like being gay was the worst thing to happen in the Wizarding World.

“I’m going upstairs too,” Harry said, as if he didn’t want to be in the same room as Snape for too long.

“Night, little brother,” Harley said, managing to heave sarcasm into those three words. She glanced over at her professor, who had finished the potion.

“You did a wonderful job, Harley,” he said gesturing to the empty flask. His voice was not as normal as she would have liked to hear it. “What will you call this?”

“ _Tenebris Exilium_ ,” she replied.

He looked blankly before him. “I’d like the recipe.”

“Of course, sir. Are you all right?” She asked.

He stood up, steadier now than he was. “I will be fine. Thank you for your assistance.”

“You’re not leaving.”

“Of course,” he said, as if answering a question.

Harley laughed. “No, sir, I meant that there is no way in Hell I am letting you leave in this condition.” The look on his face was priceless. “Sir, when I was ill you made sure I was all right. Wouldn’t even leave my bedside. What kind of person would I be if I let you leave in your condition? I am sure you can conjure up a bed for yourself in my workshop.”

“I would be imposing, both on Black and on you,” Snape said.

“Too bad for him, and it is no imposition to me, sir,” Harley insisted, leading him down the stairs into the cellar. She moved a few things aside and Snape easily waved his wand and a small bed appeared.

He stayed standing, unmoving. “Harley, what were you and Black arguing about?”

She shook her head. “It does not matter. He has never liked me. ...Not to pry, sir, but are you all right? Do you...if you want to talk, I am here.”

He sighed, sitting on the edge of the thin mattress, his dirty cloak discarded. “My darkest memories are not things I would ever have you hear.”

Harley thought she was imagining it, but his eyes looked as if he were about to cry. Knowing she hated being seen in tears, she wished him a hasty good night. Before she left, she turned back to him and added, “Sir? I thought you should know that I trust you, and I think you are a real hero for doing what you are for the Order. Few would be so brave as to openly spy on the Dark Lord.”

He looked up, black eyes bright. “I am not as cold or heartless as everyone thinks I am.”

Harley smiled. “I know. That is why we get along so well: neither am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Now, you know I have updated every Monday or Tuesday since starting this fic. Next week (the 1st and 2nd of August) there will be NO new chapter. I will be very busy.  
> To make up for the lack of a new chapter, I wanted to invite you all to where I'll be on August 2nd. I never said what I did for a living, but now you all should know, since it's keeping me from here: I write. Professionally. And I have a new book out on August 2nd.  
> This is NOT a sales pitch. This is an invite for you all to come visit me online and maybe even win a free book! Since everyone is so supportive of my writing, I wanted to share more of it with you all.
> 
> Visit here on August 2nd: https://www.facebook.com/events/1746192272321581/


	18. School Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus offers to go to Diagon Alley with Harley to get her school supplies for her seventh year at Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and thanks for being so patient! My book release last week went wonderfully, but I am glad to be back at this, back in Rowling's world.
> 
> So this is just a fluffy bit from Sev's POV. I hope you like it. xo

Severus did not sleep that night. When he closed his eyes, he pictured his worst memory playing over and over. His worst...and then his darkest.

_ “I don’t need help from a Mudblood like you, Lily!” _

He cringed, recalling how angry and hurt he had been, and how he had taken those emotions out in one word that had ruined everything. She had partially forgiven him in sixth year, but when she had gone back to James Potter, he had gone further into the only group where he felt accepted: the Death Eaters. It had been his biggest mistake and his biggest regret.

That was easier to deal with than the dark memory. Much easier, as he felt the cold air, heard the screaming of one-year-old-Harry Potter, as he stepped over the cooling corpse of James Potter, into the nursery where the woman he had loved since he was a child was lying dead, partly because of him.

He could hear his own screams and wails, feel the shadows coming over his heart and soul, as he held her lifeless body, feeling like his world had ended. He did not need Dementors to make him feel like he would never be cheerful again, he had done that to himself. He had told about the prophecy, and he had believed Dumbledore when he promised to keep Lily safe.

Remembering how Harley had called him a hero broke his heart, for she did not know everything. Her childlike trust in him was so much like Lily, and he had not deserved the love of either of them.

Letting hot tears spill down his face, he covered his eyes, trying to rid himself of the memory of his love’s death, trying to rid himself of the heavy guilt that had settled on his soul for fourteen years.

Harley was wrong: he was not brave, and he was no hero. However, he now had the chance to be a hero, to avenge Lily’s death and make his daughter proud of him.

 

****

 

“Head Girl! Congratulations!” Fred said to Harley the next morning, when everyone’s Hogwarts letters arrived. Snape was just coming up the stairs from his uneasy slumber in the Blacks’ cellar.

“You’d think I would have lost that, with all the detentions I have been getting,” she said.

“Nonsense,” Snape replied, registering everyone to his presence. “You have done an excellent job, and there is no girl in your year more deserving.”

He saw Sirius roll his eyes. “Won’t it be hard for Harry to get his supplies?” he asked.

“I could pick him up what he needs,” Harley said. “I will say it is for a sick friend if anyone asks me.”

“You can’t measure my robes for me,” Harry pointed out.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I have a lot to do in the next two weeks before term begins. I suppose I should go to Diagon Alley immediately, so I can return to the potions and get them prepared for transport to Hogwarts, or bottled and kept here.”

“You can’t go alone,” Lupin told her. “No one should, not now.”

“We were all planning on going tomorrow,” Ginny said.

Harley got out of her chair and poured herself another cup of coffee, using magic to add creamer and get another cup, which she sent over to Severus. “I have to be here all day tomorrow or else the wound solvent will probably level this entire house and everyone in it.”

Without thinking, Severus said, “I can take you to Diagon Alley if you would like. I have a few things to pick up for my classes. I realise you do not care to feel like a child who needs supervision, but--”

Harley held up a hand, “I know, Professor. And I think I will take you up on your offer.”

Severus saw Sirius kick Lupin under the table, and the werewolf gave a quick, “What can I do?” type of shrug. While he was watching, Harley was helping Mrs. Weasley bring out breakfast.

“Fred, you picked quite a girl,” Mrs. Weasley commented. “She is a better cook than I am.” Fred beamed at Harley.

“Comes from being so good at Potions,” Harley replied.

Severus stood back from the group, watching, seeing how most of them were accepting and loving towards Harley. She had managed to do what he could not at that age: belong. Despite Sirius’s doubts and Harry’s animosity, Harley had found a wonderful group of people. He stepped further back, intending to leave, to let her be with her friends, when she spoke up.

“Sit down, Professor. McGonagall would be pleased: I conjured a chair for the first time.”

Unable to deny a direct invitation, Severus sat down to breakfast, sitting to the left of his daughter, next to Lupin, who looked at him as though  _ he  _ could bite and infect someone, not Lupin.

Fred and George began telling the fifth years about OWLs, making them sound much more awful than they were. Severus was amused by their exaggerations, they even made the officials from the Ministry sound like trolls.

_ Why couldn’t the jokers from my era have been half as amusing? _ Severus wondered, thinking about the tormenting he had received from the school’s pranksters.

“Harley, tell me they’re joking!” Hermione said, eyes wide.

Harley smirked. “Maybe about the Ministry, but no, the tests will drive you batty. Angelina Johnson wound up tearing some of her braids out from nerves.”

“If I remember correctly, you never seemed concerned,” Severus spoke up.

“Ah, that is because you did not see me during Transfiguration,” Harley said.

Once breakfast was finished, Harley offered to help clean, but Mrs. Weasley said, “Of course not. You go and get your books, dear. Ron can help me.”

With much grumbling from the troublesome Weasley, Harley went upstairs for her pocketbook and cloak. “I will be back later. Sure no one needs me to get anything for them? I am offering, it is not a problem.”

When everyone said no, Severus asked, “Are you more comfortable with Floo Powder or Apparition?”

“Apparition,” she replied.

“Outside of Gringotts, then,” Severus decided, as he Apparated to the popular Wizarding shopping district. He and Harley appeared a moment apart in front of the Goblin-run bank, Harley looking a bit dizzy.

As she pulled out her list, he took a moment to watch and savour what a poignant moment this was. He was taking his child school shopping. Certainly, she was not a child any longer, but this was a moment most Wizarding parents longed for when their offspring was eleven, that first time walking down Diagon Alley with their kid, sharing memories and wisdom.

He had missed so many years, this was his last chance to share that moment with Harley. That was why he had made the offer to take her, so he could feel like a real father. So desperately he wanted to sit her down and tell her everything, but his own burning Dark Mark put a stop to that. He had to be content with simply being her professor and guide as she transitioned from student to full-fledged witch.

He knew if she happened to find out who he really was from anyone else she would be hurt, but it was a risk he was taking in order to keep her safe from the Dark Lord. He was willing to add another layer onto his suffering if it meant sparing her to have any more of it in her life.

“Quite an old Defence textbook required this year. Did Dumbledore hire someone older than he?” She asked.

Severus sighed. “Ministry appointed. Unfortunately, the Ministry is going to have a lot more to do with Hogwarts now.”

Harley paused. “That does not sound good, sir.”

He sighed. “No. And Merlin knows what else they will do. New rules, things Dumbledore has no control over.”

“They still do not believe what Potter saw, then? How damned dense can they be? Azkaban Dementors out of their control...Death Eaters’ Marks are burning...a student was  _ murdered _ ! Look at what happened at the World Cup! Have they no sense?” Harley cried.

“No, they do not. What they have is a deep seated fear causing this irrational denial,” he replied.

They began walking slowly down the semi-crowded street, Harley checking her list. “I need new robes, but those can be last. I despise being measured. Flourish and Blotts first, then. I always like to see what new books they have got in.” She paused. “If you need to go and get your things, sir, do not feel you have to stay with me.”

“Nonsense,” Severus said. “The whole reason for this excursion was so you would not go alone.” He followed her to the bookstore, where she checked her list and used magic to have the books follow her around as she browsed the stacks for books for personal use.

Severus stood back, watching her, reminded of the days he went shopping with Lily, the two of them dashing about, showing each other books.

_ “Look, Sev, they illustrated Beedle the Bard!” _

_ “Lily, you have three copies of his stories already!” _

_ “But this is in color and moves more realistically.” _

_ “Hey, look, Lil:  _ Secrets Of The Ancient Arts _.” _

_ “That looks creepy, Sev, put it away!” _

He smiled to himself, watching her pull books from shelves, read their blurbs, and put them back on the shelves or in her own growing pile. She was going to have a very heavy trunk this year.

“Is there anything you would recommend?” she asked Severus.

“How many more books will your trunks fit, Harley? You will take up the entire common room at this rate,” he said. He smiled as he watched her, intent on checking every book in the shop. Most days she reminded him so of Lily, but days like this day he saw himself in her, and she made his inherited traits seem endearing.

The shopkeep watched them. She was elderly, had worked there for decades, and said in a wavery voice, “Intelligent girl. Is she your daughter?”

Before he could think, he said, “Yes, she is. Head Girl and honours at Hogwarts, just like her mother.” He placed some Galleons on the counter, which should cover her book costs. He had grown up poor, after the Princes had disowned his mother for marrying a Muggle. He knew what it was like to go without books. Since working at Hogwarts, he had precious few personal expenses, so he was now able to spend money to give his daughter the best of everything...not that her Muggle guardians hadn’t.

“Always good having a girl who spends more on books than dress robes, huh?” the old lady said, laughing, as they both watched Harley send the massive stack to the counter. When she told Harley the books were paid for, the teen looked startled, but did not say anything until they had left the shop.

“What was that for, sir? I appreciate it, but I cannot let you buy these books for me.”

“Do not think anything of it, please,” was all Severus said as they went into another store. As Harley browsed stationery parchment, Severus picked up a few quills. Peeves had decided to hide almost all of the ones in Hogwarts for some reason or another.

They walked right past Quality Quidditch Supplies and went into the apothecary, where Harley took out her list again and began adding items to a small shopping basket.

Severus went to the counter and placed his usual yearly order for the term, scheduling delivery for Hogwarts. Harley walked next to him and began checking out.

“You can add that to the school’s order,” Severus said. “Dumbledore will not mind.”

“Thank you.” Harley was distracted by a small packet of a rare European flower, and she put that in her pile as well.

He was still getting used to how, while she possessed Lily’s emotional qualities, she was really quite like a miniature of himself. Serious, dark, studious. As she got into a deep conversation with the apothecary about potions, he felt a surge of fatherly pride. Most magical folk wanted children who were Quidditch stars or Aurors. He was very pleased with his kind, brilliant potioneer. She was a much better daughter than he ever deserved.

He allowed himself to enjoy this afternoon with his daughter, knowing that soon these moments would be impossible to come by. War was brewing, and it would make him even more estranged than he was from her.

He got to know little things about her, like that she dropped her measured tones when she got excited (particularly about books), or that she had memorised almost all of Edgar Allan Poe’s poetry. She shirked most Muggle enjoyment except for books and music, though she did not mind the occasional horror movie.

They went for lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, and Severus told her a little bit about his own schooldays, the excitement of going to get his supplies and what he’d do after classes (leaving out Lily’s name). She seemed genuinely interested in his stories and made him recall many happy things he had not thought about in years.

The only part of the conversation that bothered him was her constant stream of “Professor” and “sir”. He was glad she was respectful, but for the first time, he longed to hear her say “Father” when speaking to him (he knew she’d never use the word “dad”).

He had never thought seriously about having children, and especially not about having a nearly grown child. Speaking with Harley was not like speaking to a teenager, it was as if he were speaking to someone who was completely on his mental level. He wished for the nth time that things were different. He’d love to be the type of parent who becomes close confidants with their child once they’ve grown. Never had he pondered it, but now he desperately wished for it.

Her final task was to get fitted for new robes, and Severus paid for those as well, despite her protests.

“Head Girl, eh?” The seamstress said when Harley pinned her new badge to her robe, to see how it would look. “Your parents must be so proud.”

Harley wavered at those words, and Severus supplied, “Everyone who knows her is proud of her. She has come a long way.” The seamstress walked away and he went to stand behind Harley in the mirror. “I mean that, you know. McGonagall, Dumbledore, Lupin...myself. We are all very proud of you. And I know your mother is as well.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and saw her smile shyly in the mirror.

“Thank you. Coming from you, that means a lot, sir.”

He looked in the mirror, thinking about the Mirror Of Erised back at Hogwarts. He remembered what he had seen when he was twenty-one: him, Lily, and a raven-haired baby. His heart’s desire. Lily was gone, but he had gotten part of what he wanted, even though he had long ago forgotten that that had ever been his desire.

They left the shop and walked back to the front of Gringotts. “I probably will not see you for the next two weeks until term begins,” Severus said. “Take care not to kill Sirius before then, all right?”

Harley smirked. “That’s a tall order, sir. ...Thank you. For everything. I will see you at Hogwarts.” With a wave, Harley Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.

Staring at the place she had just been, Severus allowed himself another moment of the happiness that he did not deserve before he too Disapparated, going back to Spinner’s End.


	19. Seventh Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEWT year begins for Harley. How will she react to the new DADA professor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter to bring the story into the OoTP timeline. Enjoy! xoxo

“He should not be here,” Harley hissed at Harry as Sirius accompanied them to King’s Cross Station on 1st September in his Animagus form. “Do you not care about his wellbeing?”

Her little brother pretended to ignore her, and she sighed, knowing that this was a bad idea, especially when she saw Draco and Lucius Malfoy at the platform. This sendoff for the students was more sombre than usual, all of them hiding the fear that this would be the last time they saw those they were sending off and leaving behind alive.

Harley did her required compartment patrols before going to a compartment with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. The topic of conversation was the premises Fred and George had placed money on in Diagon Alley.

“This is quite exciting: you are the first of us to start thinking and working towards a goal outside of Hogwarts,” Harley said.

“What about that property you want, in Hogsmeade?” Fred asked her.

“I have the money. I just need to visit there this year and hopefully it will be mine by graduation,” she said. “We can cross-promote. I will sell a few of your products, and you can stock some of mine. I am sure I can come up with some joke potions.”

Fred grinned, wrapping his arms around her. “We’re going to be the two biggest shops in the Wizarding World!”

At school, the Sorting Ceremony commenced and everyone noticed two differences at the staff table: there was a squat, toadlike woman none of them knew, and Hagrid’s seat was empty.

“Isn’t he part of the Order as well?” Harley asked Harry.

“Yeah, and he said he had some mission for Dumbledore, but I don’t know why he wouldn’t be here now.”

“Oh, I hope he’s all right,” Ginny said.

Harley had never taken Care of Magical Creatures, mainly because wildlife would not be involved in her chosen career, but she knew that Hagrid, the half-Giant, was well loved by her brother and his friends. In her opinion, he seemed like a hazard, but the few times she had run into him on the grounds since he had taken her to Diagon Alley he had been very kind. He was a staple at Hogwarts, and it looked odd to not have him there.

The dour tone was broken at their table by Neville, who pointed out that his young cousin was being Sorted that day. She was a pale, pudgy girl who looked shockingly like Neville, and the Hat Sorted her into Hufflepuff in a mere instant after sitting on her head.

After the Sorting, Dumbledore began his annual beginning-of-year speech, introducing the woman as their new Defence Against The Dark Arts professor, Dolores Umbridge. Harley knew that no one ever interrupted the headmaster when he spoke, so when this little witch stood up to make a speech of her own, everyone looked incredulous. She saw Snape and McGonagall give each other glances across the table as Umbridge droned on.

Harley listened, wishing she had a tape recorder to remember everything that was said. It seemed as though Snape had been right: the Ministry was going to be interfering with Hogwarts quite a bit this year. Harley and Hermione exchanged a look as she finished speaking.

“In a very Muggle way, I think I can honestly say that we are bloody well screwed,” Harley said as they all walked out of the Great Hall. She left the group to go and lead the first years to the dorms, which was the job of the Head Boy and Girl.

Once that was done, she joined her friends and brother in the common room. “I realised something this evening: I do not like children. Hard to believe I ever was one.”

“Looking at your baby pictures, I don’t think you ever were one,” Ron commented.

Hermione started talking about Umbridge, repeating parts of the speech that all of the boys had tuned out.

“But I thought the Ministry wasn’t allowed to do that,” Harry said.

“Extenuating circumstances,” Harley said.

“In English?” George requested.

“They are using the Dark Lord as an excuse to infiltrate the school, which as we all know, Fudge has wanted to do anyway for years since Dumbledore became headmaster,” she explained. “I am going to bed. NEWT year. I will not let some toad-faced idiot keep me from getting top scores.”

 

****

 

The NEWT Potions class was extremely tiny. Harley, Fred, Angelina, and another boy Harley didn’t know were all that were there from Gryffindor. The Slytherin side was also thin, with barely ten students attending the class. No one else had gotten good enough grades to please the professor. Harley was surprised that Fred had managed to get an ‘Outstanding’, but happy.

“Welcome,” Snape said, closing the dungeon door. “And congratulations on passing your OWLs and sixth year exams. By this time, I think you all know how this class works. Show of hands, how many people here think that they will use Potions for their everyday working lives?”

Harley, Fred, and a few Slytherins raised their hands. There were two budding Aurors, three Healers, and then the two of them, who were going into independent business.

“Hm. Study hard, and do not dawdle on your homework. This class is not to be taken lightly.” He eyed Fred as he said that. He flicked his wand and a potion recipe appeared on the board. “This is a new brew, meant to ease the effects of Dementors. I learnt it from a brilliant witch over the summer. You Healers will need to know this, as I am sure she will be making the recipe public by the time next summer hits. Begin.”

Harley had to stifle a smile. He was teaching the class her potion and he had called her a ‘brilliant witch’. This was a great way to start the year.

“This is a precise potion: too little cocoa, and it will not work. Too much Valerian root, and you could put the patient under for days.” He made his rounds, commenting on various potions. There was little to ridicule, as these were the best of the best of Hogwarts now. No idiots like Alicia to ruin things.

They had Defence Against The Dark Arts next, and Harley was keenly dreading going into the den of that pink-clad nightmare. She got a terrible vibe off of Umbridge and had learnt long ago to trust her instincts.

“Hello, children!” Umbridge said brightly as everyone sat down. It was a tone Harley associated with preschool teachers, not witches who were teaching near adults about defeating the Dark. When no one replied, she said, “That just will not do. When I say hello, I want every single one of you to respond with ‘Hello, Professor Umbridge’. Go on.”

Had Harley been unable to school her facial expressions, she was certain she would have burst into laughter and been sent to detention on the first day of school.

“Now, wands away and books open, please,” Umbridge continued. “We will not be practising actual spells. So far, your professors have been quite sub par and have endangered the lives of children by allowing you to face boggarts and practise nonverbal spells, which are very dangerous in and of themselves.

“This year you will be learning about the history of how the Ministry and others have defeated the Dark time and time again.”

Harley raised her hand.

“Yes, miss? What is your name?”

“Harley Torrance, ma’am. I was just wondering why we, as NEWT students, will not be studying and practising the things that will not only go on our exams, but the things which we will need once we have left the safe haven of Hogwarts.”

The twins and Lee hid smiles. They knew Harley, and they knew that the saccharine sweet voice she was using meant that she was straining against sarcasm and blunt rudeness. Lee had often told her that her sharp tongue could rival Professor Snape’s.

“You seem very intelligent, Miss Torrance. However, we at the Ministry see no need for any of you to have to actually perform such dangerous spells. You will learn all you need to know from this very book. Now, if there will be no more disruptions, please begin reading chapter one.” Umbridge turned away, initiating that the conversation was closed.

“Professor?” Harley raised her hand again. “I have already read half of this book.”  _ And it was an unhelpful as the Ravenclaw room’s riddles. _

The small woman narrowed her eyes ay Harley. “Well, how ambitious. Perhaps you can then help if your fellow students have any questions.”

Harley crossed her arms and sat mutinously in her chair. How on Earth could the Ministry be refusing to teach their young witches and wizards how to properly defend themselves against what was quite the obvious threat?

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief once the DADA class was over.

“What was that farce?” George asked. “That was no class. That was a book talking about how great the Ministry is!”

“We should talk to McGonagall,” Lee said. “Tell her how bad that was.”

“It won’t matter,” Harley said. “Professor Snape told me the Ministry is getting more involved and no one can do anything about it. They want to keep the news about the Dark Lord quiet, and this is the most effective way to do it. This, and taking over the  _ Prophet _ .”

Fred slung his arm around her shoulders, sighing. “Glad we had our own bit of classes over the summer.”

She leaned into him. “Not so loud!” Her head was on his shoulder as she tried to compose herself about that infuriating woman.

As they walked away they heard a clearing of the throat. “Hem-hem”. When they did not stop it was repeated, louder.

Turning, they saw Umbridge staring at them. “Boys and girls are not permitted to be within six inches of each other, with the exception of meals.”

Harley and Fred just stared at each other, but she stepped away from him quickly.

“Good. I will let you both off with a warning this time.” She waddled back to her classroom and Fred grabbed Harley’s wrist to stop her from hexing the professor.

That evening in the common room, there was general displeasure from the group of students over Umbridge.

“She’s by far the worst professor I have ever seen--and that includes Lockhart,” Harley said. “The problem is, how on Earth do we undermine the Ministry’s decisions? We cannot possibly sit here and not learn Defence when we need it the most.”

“We need to figure something out,” Harry agreed. “We can’t do it in one day, especially since most of us have OWLs and the rest of you have NEWTs.”

“I know. The workload is insane. Two feet from Snape on magical medicinal purposes of cocoa,” Angelina complained. “That was some potion he taught today. Wonder who this witch was that taught him that, and can we get  _ her  _ to teach DADA?”

Harley and Fred grinned at each other.

“What was it?” Harry asked.

“ _ Tenebris Exilium _ ,” Harley replied. “Tried and proven results against the effects of Dementors.” She paused. “I think I know what he’s doing. That potion, brand new and in no book whatsoever...he’s teaching us his brand of Defence, disguising it as Potions!”

She could tell that the others didn’t quite believe her. She knew that the Gryffindors would never like Snape, but she knew what he was doing, that he was trying his best to save all of their arses.


	20. Detention & The DA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley experiences Umbridge's version of detention while she and Hermione help Harry start Dumbledore's Army.

Detention. Harley was no stranger to detention, despite her Head Girl status. However, no professor had ever given her a detention for being honest.

In the chapter they’d had to read in DADA the second month of school, there had been a terrible inconsistency that Muggle-born witches and wizards were unable to produce Patronus Charms.

Harley had been so insulted on her mother’s behalf that she blurted out, “My mum was Muggle-born and she produced a Patronus just fine.” She  _ had  _ spoken out of turn, and in any other class would have resulted in five points being taken off of her House. In Snape’s class, maybe just one evening’s detention for her. With Professor Umbridge, it resulted in week-long detentions  _ and  _ a ten point loss for Gryffindor.

She was not the first of her friends to get Umbridge’s detention. Harry, Fred, George, and Lee had all already managed to get the brunt of the wrath of this pink menace. However, Harley had not noticed the blood on their hands thanks to Murtlap wraps, so she had no idea what to expect when she reported for detention.

“You will be writing lines for me, Miss Torrance,” Umbridge said, handing her a piece of parchment and a peculiar black quill.

“I have my own quill, ma’am,” Harley said.

The woman looked positively gleeful as she said, “Oh no, I find that using this quill… drives the lesson in more, so to speak. Carry on.”

“How many lines, ma’am?” Harley asked, wondering what that last statement meant.

“Until the parchment is full. ‘I will respect my professors’.”

Harley could not believe this. It was a foot and a half long! Holding back a sigh, she put quill to parchment. The moment she wrote ‘I’, she felt a stabbing pain in her hand. Glancing at the back of it, she saw a bloody ‘I’ had been gouged into her skin. She wrote the whole sentence, and it appeared in blood on the back of her hand. It burned and she felt painful tears spring into the corners of her eyes.

Glancing up, she saw the woman she was now equating with Satan smiling widely.

Not showing the deep pain she felt, Harley managed to finish the parchment, her eyes burning almost as bad as her hand was. Blood was dripping down her wrist now, staining the parchment and running with the ink.

Umbridge said, “That will be all, Miss Torrance. I will see you tomorrow.”

Harley fled from the class, hoping to get to Professor Snape’s stores to get that wound solvent before anyone saw her. He had still given her permission to use the stores for her own personal studies, so she had her key.

Managing to get in and out undetected, she went back to the common room to fix her wound, which was still bleeding. It was like Umbridge’s quill was somehow infused with the  _ sectumsempra  _ curse.

Everyone just shook their heads, unable to speak when they saw that even Harley, the most revered student after Potter and Head Girl, had been subjected to such indignities. Everyone but Alicia, who had left her alone since the previous year. She was smirking with pleasure.

Harley suffered through three more detentions, each time leaving the DADA room bloody and in vicious pain. The wound solvent was not working as well as it should on the toad’s enchantments, so her wounds were still vivid and bright on Friday. She usually loved Fridays because they were double Potions day. Now all she could think about was that she had to be subjected to one more day of abuse.

During class, Harley was thankful that they were not working with anything that could splatter into the wound. It seemed to throb more as the time got closer to her detention.

As Potions was over (far too soon), she heard Snape sharply call her name.

“Yes, sir?” She had never heard him say her name with such venom in his tone and she was a little concerned that she had done something of which she was not aware.

“Come here. ...What is that on your hand?”

She instinctively hid her wound behind her back. “It is nothing, sir. Just an accident.”

He gave her a knowing look that was almost paternal. “You are a natural liar, but you cannot lie to me. Let me see, Harley.  _ Now _ .”

_ At least he isn’t mad at me.  _ Slowly, she showed him the wound, feeling ashamed that she had let that happen to her, that she was too weak to have stopped Umbridge.

He held her hand in his, staring at the words carved there. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he read what it said.

“Harley. I have seen phrases on other students’ hands. I assumed it was something silly they had gotten into, but I know you would never be so idiotic. What is this and how did you get it?” His voice was tight, controlling anger.

“Detention with Umbridge,” Harley muttered. “Potter, the twins, and Lee so far have gotten the same punishment. Some others I do not know well. She--she makes us write lines and the quill she makes us use does this. Each time you write, the words get driven deeper in.”

Snape was silent, just staring. He moved as if to speak, but no words came. He took out his wand and touched the tip to her hand. “ _ Vulnera sanentur _ .” Nothing happened. It would not heal. “This astounds me. How dare she...how dare she injure a student? Have you or any of the others told anyone about this?”

“To what avail? Obviously the Ministry is going to be on her side, and they are currently undermining everything Dumbledore does,” Harley said. “I did not want to bother you with it when there is nothing you can do.”

Snape did not meet her eyes. “I despise feeling so helpless, especially against the Ministry. And this is quite obviously a Dark--which means  _ illegal _ \--enchantment.”

“I understand, sir. Please, do not worry. I will be fine.” She took her hand back from him and didn’t even attempt to smile.

“Next time, you come to me immediately. I know you’re bright, but this could have been infected...poisoned, even,” Snape said. “Promise me.”

“Yes, sir, I promise. Hopefully tonight is my final detention.”

Back in the Gryffindor dorms, she actively ignored Fred and George as they tried testing their products out on the first years. It was much more entertaining to watch the new prefects, Hermione and Ron, do it instead. Not that they succeeded. The twins just got craftier. Harley smiled as she watched them, thinking how terrible it would be if minds like theirs were turned towards the Dark Arts instead of making people laugh.

The other side of the twins, the side that sat down first years and conforted them after they had Umbridge’s detention, that was the side she concerned herself with, not the pranking side. The sweet side, the one that was warm and bright and everything she was not, that was the side that made her fall in love with Fred Weasley over and over again. He was so unlike her. She probably would have just told the kid to suck it up, but not him. He was the light to her dark.

Her wound kept throbbing, and Harley took her mind off of it at night by reading more of her mother’s journals. She decided to start from the beginning, to see her mother’s progression as she grew up.

 

_ 1st September 1971 _

_ I am at HOGWARTS!!! Okay, I’m calm now. After two years of waiting and wondering about it, there I was sitting across from Sev on the train to go to school. A school where neither of us will be considered freaks anymore. A school without Petunia sulking and making fun of me at every turn. _

_ Everyone in my dorm is asleep right now, which is why I am writing. So much has happened. First there was those awful boys on the train: Potter and Black their names are. They were tearing through it like crazy people, and when they saw Sev and me, they stopped just to ridicule him. And then, Potter had the nerve to ask me to sit by him! As if. _

_ So, we got to school and it is amazing! Beautiful. Kind of scary, because it’s so easy to get lost. _

_ We had to go through the Sorting Ceremony. I will recall the people I knew, at least by name. The first was the bully Sirius Black, who was put in Gryffindor. Then there was me, and I was so scared! The hat barely touched my head when it also shouted Gryffindor. I did NOT want to be in the same house as Black. _

_ The next person I remember was a tall boy who had bad scars on his face, Remus Lupin. He is also in Gryffindor. He seems nice. _

_ After that, there was a blond girl named Narcissa Black. I note her because I think she’s related to that bully. She was rather striking but I got a bad vibe from her. The Hat put her in Slytherin. _

_ Then there was Peter Pettigrew, who seemed to be desperate to hang on the side of Black and his friend, Potter. Also a Gryffindor. Ugh. _

_ James Potter was next. I swear, he strutted up to the Hat. What a jerk. I had my fingers and toes crossed, but he is also in my House. I am so disappointed. Even more so because of what happened to Sev. _

_ When Headmaster Dumbledore finally called “Snape, Severus”, I gave him a thumbs up, certain that he would be in my House and make all of this easier. However, the Hat just sat on his head for a long time. He hasn’t told me what it told him yet, but when it yelled out “SLYTHERIN”, I felt my heart sink. He did not look surprised, and he slunk over to his House, leaving me with those idiots. _

_ I really am glad to be here, but I miss Sev already. Being in separate Houses like this, I have a funny feeling that this will be the most apart from each other we have been since we were nine. Is it weird that I miss him already? _

 

Harley smiled. Her mother had been in love since childhood. How sweet. She flipped through a few more pages, seeing that same blacked out name. Who was this man who had captivated her mother from primary school on? His name was on nearly every page of this journal, multiple times.

She found she was able to go to sleep easier, having traced her mother’s handwriting and recalled the fondness in her words, the emotion of missing her best friend after only a few hours.

 

****

 

“I’ve got an idea.”

Harley looked up from the Potions manual Professor Snape had lent her from his personal collection and looked at Hermione, whose eyes had a glint in them that meant danger.

“Do I want to know?” Harley asked.

“Well, you know what a farce those DADA classes are,” Hermione began. “So, I was thinking about what you’d said about Professor Snape, how he was trying to teach a bit of defence himself with your potion. I realise he can’t do much else--we’ve seen what happens to people who get on Umbridge’s bad side.”

“Is there a point to this, Granger?” Harley sighed.

Hermione nodded eagerly. “I was thinking we--the students--could form our own Defence Club. I mean, I know every spell there is in theory, just not practice, the twins are excellent at Charms, you’ve got enough Dark Arts in your head to rival Lucius Malfoy, and Harry has already defeated You-Know-Who twice in person, not counting Quirrel and the Chamber! If anyone is qualified to teach the others about defence, it’s Harry.”

“Potter as a teacher?” Harley scoffed. “I’d love to see that. Aside from that, I think you’ve got quite a good idea.” She put the book down and took out a piece of parchment and her quill. “Shall we discuss this further before bringing it up with everyone?”

By the end of the evening, they had a plan on where to at least gather to talk about the club, and each were tasked to get as many trustworthy students on board by the time they had their next Hogsmeade trip. It was decided that no one under third year would be allowed to join: there were too many possibilities for accidents.

In Hogsmeade, Hermione and Ron were leading a protesting Harry to meet with the others in the Hog’s Head. Harley was impressed with the amount of people they’d gotten, including two Slytherin girls she’d gotten to know in Potions class. There was a small rumble of dissent from some of the others; Seamus Finnigan, Marietta Edgecomb, and Zacharias Smith were the three that stood out to Harley the most. Finnigan had been dragged there by Dean Thomas, his not-so-clandestine boyfriend, and Edgecomb was there because Cho Chang had brought her.

Despite their obvious doubt, it was Harley who felt the odd girl out. Her feud with Spinnet was still as strong as ever, Neville Longbottom had always been a little terrified of her since she said his toad should be put down, and the Creevey brothers also didn’t like her. She supposed it didn’t help that she’d cursed Colin’s camera and hexed his film before.

Once the meeting had begun, there were immediate doubts expressed, and Harley could tell Harry was getting not just nervous, but angry as well. She could not imagine seeing a classmate callously murdered before her eyes and then being told it never happened.

“Hey!” Thus far she had been quiet, so at her outburst the complainers were silent. “You weren’t there. You haven’t been there, to see what Potter has gone through since all this happened. Do you think this is something any sane person would fabricate? Do you think the former Death Eaters’ Dark Marks are burning for  _ fun _ ?

“While you all sit here and needlessly argue Potter’s validity, the Dark Lord is out there, getting stronger and gaining allies. So I am going to make this very simple for all of you who are too filled with the drivel the Ministry is feeding you to think for yourselves: either wake up and smell the polyjuice, or get the Hell out, because we do not need to be hindered by your deliberate ignorance.”

There was more silence, while Seamus blushed with embarrassment. No one left, and everyone shut up.

Harley inclined her head. “Potter? I believe they are prepared to listen to you now.”

With everyone a bit calmer, they all signed the binding magical contract that Hermione had made up. Harley had asked repeatedly what it was, but Hermione would only say, “If anyone betrays us, we’ll know about it.”

Now all they needed to do was find a place to practice.

 

****

 

One weekend not long after Dumbledore’s Army was founded, Harley was sitting with Fred in the library, and they were working on potions. Not the class, but the things Harley would make and sell at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and vice versa.

She stoutly refused to stock any love potions, so Fred’s Beguiling Bubbles were out. Fred had also made a bruise removal paste that Harley praised. She loved having a brilliant boyfriend. Harley had a list of potions she could sell at WWW: Alihotsy, Blemish Blitzer, Bulgeye, Babbling Beverage,  [ Caxambu Style Borborygmus Potion ](http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Caxambu_Style_Borborygmus_Potion) , Jawbind, Fungiface, Dogbreath, and so many others she had found or been taught privately by Professor Snape.

Harley had also made a separate list of potions that could be very dangerous, in case she ever needed to use them (preferably on Spinnet or Umbridge): Drink Of Despair, various poisons, Garroting Gas, Exploding Potion, Weakness Potion, and a few others. She’d be in deep trouble if anyone found out what she was learning to brew, but it might come in handy. Snape semeed to know each potion she tried out and never said a word to her short of encouragement.

They were interrupted by a wretched-looking Neville, who had once again lost Trevor.

“Why don’t you get Ron or Hermione to help you find him? They’re prefects,” Harley said. “As Head Girl, I doubt one of my duties is toad rescuer!”

“Just Summon him like in fifth year,” Fred said.

“No magic in the halls, and if Umbridge sees me do it, it’ll be more detention,” Harley said, standing up with a sigh. “Come on, Longbottom. Where did you last have him...for his sake, I hope not in Professor Snape’s class!”

“I was holding the painting for some of the first years and he hopped away,” Neville said. “He’s old, I don’t think he can handle hopping around the whole castle.”

“Better he die quickly than linger on in the common room,” Harley said, noticing the horrified look on Neville’s face. “You do realise how tedious this is? The castle is huge, and he can crawl into spaces we cannot.”

Eventually, they actually caught up to the wayward toad, all the way on the third floor, in a corridor that ended abruptly with no other rooms and a smooth hallway. Neville dove to catch the toad and sighed with relief. “Thanks, Harley. One thing off my mind.”

“Oh? What else is on your mind? I was unaware you had one,” Harley said.

“The DA. What’s the point in having it if we can’t find a place to meet?” he said, ignoring her comment.

“For once, you and I have the same concern.” Harley had seen Snape in the evenings, his guard not as up when it was just the two of them, and he would occasionally massage his left arm when he thought she was not looking. The Marks were burning more than ever, which meant the Dark Lord was plotting something. They needed to be prepared.

Neville began to pace in the hall, holding the toad as if it was his security blanket. Harley was about to tell him they needed to go back before their absence was noticed when she saw the wall begin to move. She rubbed her eyes, and sure enough it was not an illusion.

“Longbottom, look!”

They both watched as a doorway began to form. “Go get the others, I’ll stay here and make sure it does not disappear.”

Neville came back a few moments later with most of the DA and they entered the large room. It was high-ceilinged, with dueling dummies and a corner set up for Potions experiments.

Hermione, the endless font of textbook information, told them all that this was the Room Of Requirement, and it was exactly what they had been looking for.

 

****

 

Harry wasn’t the only teacher in the DA. Harley had a Potions corner in the Room Of Requirement, where anyone willing and capable took instruction from her on various healing potions. It turned out that Luna Lovegood was a natural potioneer, as were Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, two Hufflepuffs in Harry’s year.

Most others didn’t work with her, either because she was a severe teacher or because they were horrible. She wasn’t sure. She had banned Neville from coming anywhere near the ingredients after he very nearly set the entire room ablaze by adding salamander blood instead of rabbit blood to one wound solution.

“Oh, you great idiot, does your brain ever connect with your hands when you work, or can you just not follow the simplest of directions?” Harley scolded. “I highly suggest you drop Potions altogether once next year begins, lest you kill all your classmates and the professor with your foolishness. ...I should put that on a wound for you--see what it does. Maybe that will get it through your thick skull.”

Fred and George were laughing at the outburst. “If anything ever happens to Snape, you can always take his place,” George told her.

Harley also worked with the older students while Harry was better with the younger ones, on more complicated hexes and spells. It turned out she liked teaching. Who would have thought?


	21. Graduation Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley goes to Hogsmeade with Professor Snape to see about getting her shop ready to open when she graduates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a whole big bunch of familial fluff. Enjoy!
> 
> (PS--sorry about the late update. I have been working so much I forgot what day it was!)

“I need to talk to you,” Fred said, taking Harley aside a couple of weeks later. Things at Hogwarts had gone haywire, and the Ministry’s presence had sparked a new hatred amongst the students for Umbridge. She even had a group of Slytherin students playing security guards for her: Malfoy amongst them. The Inquisitorial Squad. Harley had considered joining, just to make sure they didn’t get out of line, but decided against it. She could very well wind up hexing one of them, and then she’d be expelled.

“What is it?” Harley asked. They were the last two in the common room, because they had a free period.

“This isn’t going to be easy but...George and I want to leave.”

“What do you mean, leave?” It was a silly question that she mentally berated herself for.

He gestured towards the window. “Leave. Get out. Open our shop. It’s ready. Our products are ready, and I am bloody miserable here. I mean, I won’t be leaving right away, but sometime soon. I just wanted to be sure you were okay with it.”

“Fred, you do not need my permission. You have to do what is right for you,” Harley said. “If you stay, I will support you. If you leave, I will support you as long as you keep doing what you love.”

He bent down and kissed her, and she wished that the girls’ dorm wasn’t occupied by the Quidditch girls preparing for practice. “I have the best girlfriend in the world.”

“Let me know when you’re leaving, okay?” She tugged on his hair. “I will never forgive you if you just up and go.”

“You got it, love.” He checked the bulletin board. “Almost time for your meeting with Snape about your shop.”

She nodded, standing up and getting her robe. “See you tonight at the DA.” She walked down the halls to the dungeon to see that she was early: the fifth years were still handing in their potions. She saw poor Potter struggling to finish something, but she saw something else just as disturbing: Umbridge, sitting beside Snape, taking notes. He looked as though he was ready to hex her himself and was just containing his rage. So far, he was the only professor to not have had an inspection, until right then.

Finally, the class filed out, Harry looking fairly pleased, probably because Snape had not bothered him as much. Snape saw Harley standing at the door and motioned to his office, casting a side-eyed glance at the little toad.

It was another five minutes before Snape entered his office, looking flustered. “I apologise for the delay.”

“Staff  inspections?” Harley guessed. She had heard about the harrowing ones Umbridge had given Hagrid and McGonagall.

He nodded, but did not sit down. “Are you still interested in the shop in Hogsmeade?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Go to your dorm and get your cloak, please. We are going into town.” The professor put his cloak on as well. “I have already gotten clearance, there is no way you can be punished for going, despite Hogsmeade trips being cancelled.”

Harley did not tell him about Dumbledore’s Army, or that that was the reason for their trips being cancelled. Instead she ran up to the dorm, and told Harry she was going to miss the DA meeting that night.

When he asked why she responded, “My future awaits me.” Rushing back to the entrance of Hogwarts, she met her professor there. After having a terrible summer and beginning of the school year, she was glad to have something to look forward to.

“Are you ready to leave?” Snape asked her. She noticed his eyes kept straying to her hand, which was not fully healed. She would carry that scar for the rest of her life.

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I think this could be categorised as going beyond the call of duty as a professor,” she commented.

“Perhaps,” was all the Potions Master would say as they began walking to Hogsmeade. It was a pleasant journey in the cold, mid-afternoon winter air. The school had felt as if it were suffocating her, and she was glad for a reprieve.

“So, how is your brother doing with his special Dark Arts meetings?” Snape asked, causing Harley to nearly trip from shock. “Yes, I know about it. So does Dumbledore. We are all part of the Order, remember, it is our job to know these things. And frankly, I’d prefer him teaching you than that woman. I think I’d prefer the Dark Lord teaching it over her.”

Harley sighed. “It is going all right. Everyone is doing a fantastic job...except for me.”

“You? I am sorry, did I hear you correctly? Last I checked, you could do no wrong,” he said, voice laden with sarcasm. But he was smiling down at her.

“I cannot produce a Patronus,” Harley admitted. “I have been trying since fifth year and have had no success.”

“You will,” the professor said. “You have it in you. When you are in need, or rather, when someone you care for is in need, your Patronus will show itself.”

They walked a bit more in silence, Harley contemplating what he had said. How did he manage to have faith in her when she at times had so little in herself?

“I’m actually teaching them, too...a little,” Harley said.

“Really?” Snape looked genuinely interested. “I didn’t know you had tuition tendencies.”

Harley smiled. “Well, not everyone likes how I do it, but I help the students in my year with hexes and I’m trying to teach them some basic healing potions, ones that aren’t on the curriculum.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Is  _ that  _ why a few of the Hufflepuffs have improved? Well done, Harley.”

She beamed and they walked in silence for a little while longer.

“What is this Umbridge said about Harry going to begin remedial Potions? Sir, you do not give extra lessons. Really, I am surprised you haven’t tried to kick out the students who perform less than satisfactorily,” Harley said.

Snape smirked. “You know, if anyone other than you spoke of me in that way, it would result in detentions and vast point removal. I know I can tell you, because unlike everyone else, you can keep your mouth shut. You know about Potter having visions of the Dark Lord?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dumbledore wants me to give Potter Occlumency lessons. Do you know what that is?”

She nodded.

“Well, then you now know why I was asked to give him those lessons. We are only holding off telling him because he has not had anymore visions as of yet. If the connection is closed, there is no need to stretch his abnormally small mind.”

Harley giggled. “You are quite cruel, sir. However...I cannot say I have not thought similar things about him. He does not seem to have Mum’s qualities at all, does he? You know, she wrote so terribly about James Potter, it is hard for me to not look at Harry and see him as a miniature version of him.”

“James Potter was a terrible person. Everyone made him out to be a hero, but with the exception of Quidditch, all he did was be unnecessarily awful to everyone because he was coddled, wealthy, and a pureblood. Black is not much better, as you can see,” Snape said. “I see quite a bit of James in his son, and unfortunately very little of your mother. However, at least Potter does not bully his classmates for the fun of it. There is that.”

“He thinks the rules do not apply, and he really has been so childish lately. He needs a reality shock. You would think watching Diggory die would be enough to sober him up so he can see that this situation is bigger than just him and his scar.

“I mean, the Dark Lord killed my mum. His Mark kept her from the man she loved. I want him dead more than anyone, but I do not act like a child every time someone who knows better than I do leaves me out of the action,” she said. “Professor, when I graduate, I want to join the Order officially.”

“No.” The word was abrupt and laced with aggravation. “No, Harley, you will not do that. I will not let you throw away your life in this fight like your mother did.”

“But Professor, I will not be throwing it away if I happen to die. It would be to help save the entire Wizarding World,” Harley said. “I want to do more than own a shop. I want to know that I made a difference.”

Snape sighed. “Once you leave school, there is no way for anyone to stop you. You should know that you  _ have  _ made a difference already.” And that was all he would say on the subject.

They reached Hogsmeade and went directly to J. Pippin’s Potions. Miss Pippin, the owner, was there, puttering about with no real goal. Harley was disgusted by her and the way she ran her establishment.

When they walked in, Miss Pippin gave them an enthusiastic welcome. She told them to sit, and told Snape it was nice to see him again. Harley had always thought he avoided this place as a rule, but it seemed like Miss Pippin knew her professor quite well as she puttered around them both.

“Are you here to sign the papers?” Miss Pippin asked, confusing Harley even more.

“I am sorry. One of us is confused here, Miss Pippin,” Harley said.

Severus sat across from Harley and said, “Get the papers, Pippin. I will explain.” The woman scurried away. “Harley...I have already been to see Pippin twice since we began talking about this when you were fifteen. I wanted to ensure that you had your property.”

“So you got a price and agreement out of her? That is amazing, Professor! Thank you!”

He did not say anything till Miss Pippin came back with contracts on parchment, quills, and an official wax seal. She placed them in front of Harley and said, “Congratulations, dear. I am so glad someone who respects this profession will be carrying on my shop.”

_ Yeah, and doing a damn better job than you _ , Harley thought as she began to read the parchment. “Um...where is the price I will be paying? I’ll just need to go to the local Gringotts branch down the way.”

Miss Pippin tittered. “Well, dear, if you want to pay me twice, I won’t say no!”

“Twice? But I never--Professor?” She glanced at Snape, who was smirking as he watched this exchange.

“I heard that in the Muggle world students get elaborate gifts for graduating school, more so if they are at the top of their class,” he said. “We are not Muggles, but it seemed like you deserved something to commemorate your time as a student at Hogwarts, and as my best student overall.”

Harley was speechless. The professor had bought her small gifts in the past, just as McGonagall had done for Harry, but this was much too much. To buy her a building? “Sir...I do not know what to say.”

“Do not say anything: sign the papers,” he said, gesturing across the table.

“But, I have my inheritance. I have to pay you back!”

He made an impatient gesture with his hand and Harley looked over the building contract. It seemed these things were much more simple in the Wizarding World as opposed to in the Muggle world. She saw her yearly taxes to the Ministry, basic material expenses, and that was about it. She signed her name and initialed where indicated.

Pippin then passed the papers to Snape, who also signed his name.

“You’re not allowed to own property in Hogsmeade without being twenty-one. Only Diagon Alley lets you buy a property without a cosigner,” Snape explained. “Do not worry: I will not get involved. I believe you can run this place on your own just fine, but had I not agreed to cosign, you could not have this property.”

The process went by in a whirlwind, and Harley barely registered what was going on around her. Before she knew it, the little shopkeep had her wrapped in an unwanted hug of congratulations and she and Snape were back on High Street, contracts signed and her future secure.

“Professor, forgive my rudeness but what the Hell happened back there?” Harley asked.

“When you expressed desire about this property to me, I went and visited, explaining that I had a bright girl who wanted to take over the shop. Pippin was happy to take my word that you would come through and actually get the place. Once your sixth year finished, when I went and visited the Muggle world, I learnt about things that students received for graduating. It was then I realised...you would not have anyone to congratulate you.” He paused. “You are a talented, brilliant girl. I want to see you succeed.”

Harley did not know what to say, even now. Words failed her as happy tears welled up in her dark eyes. Her adoptive parents had been kind, but disinterested. Never had she had someone treat her like Professor Snape had. Overwhelmed with emotion she was not used to feeling, she forgot propriety as she threw her arms around the professor’s neck in a fierce hug, trying to convey all she wanted to say. She did not know why she was crying, but she was, turning his cloak an even deeper black.

She felt his arms come around her as well, shocking her even more. She had assumed he would have been affronted by her displaying emotion like this. He hugged her tightly, as if he had wanted to do it for as long as she had.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to convey much more than those two words were capable of. She was not just thanking him for the shop. She was thanking him for taking care of her when she was ill, for the time he took to pick out a charm bracelet, for giving her extra lessons, for taking her school shopping so she could be safe, for trusting her with so many secrets and tasks, for his extra lessons, for believing in her, for encouraging her, for taking care of her, and for the connection she had felt the moment they met.

He didn’t respond, but he moved away and she saw that he was smiling. Not a smirk, but a genuine smile. She had never seen that before, and thought that he should smile more often.

“There is no need to cry,” he said, taking out his wand and touching it to her forehead. Her eyes stopped stinging and her nose stopped running. “It was what I wanted to do. Now, let us go back to Hogwarts, the snow is starting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked reading this as much as I liked writing it! xoxo


	22. Christmas At Grimmauld Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Harry has the vision of Arthur Weasley being attacked by Nagini, everyone tries to have a nice Christmas at Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a happy chapter, despite the attack on Arthur. I wanted to show that Snape isn't always an unsociable jerk, especially to people Harley cares about.

Being woken up all the way in the girls’ dorm at three in the morning by your little brother’s tortured screams is not the way one wants to wake up after having such a blissful day. After having little connection with Voldemort, Harry had seen something terrible: Arthur Weasley being attacked by Voldemort’s giant snake.

After hugging Fred and making sure he was all right, Harley saw her brother and her boyfriend off, taking with them everyone who liked her except for Hermione.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Hermione asked. Both girls were in the common room, unable to sleep after all the worry.

Harley shook her head. “If he is alive, then he is not okay. At least, not now. I do not know what kind of snake the Dark Lord has, but I can bet its venom is much worse than what we’ve worked with in Potions.”

Two days later Harley received a note from Molly Weasley, carried by Hedwig. “Arthur will be fine. Snuffles is inviting you and Hermione for Christmas holiday.” She nearly spat out her tea, laughing. What the Hell, Snuffles?  _ That  _ was Black’s new codename?

The last day of school before break, Harley lingered in Potions before going to pack her bags. “Sir? Will you be coming for Christmas?”

Snape looked up, surprised. “Doubtful that Black would want me around for the holiday itself. I will need to visit over the holiday, after I speak with Dumbledore about Potter’s lessons.”

Harley nodded. “I will be there, and Black does not like me very much. If you have the chance...I do not know if you have family you go to and I am not trying to pry. I know I have Harry, but our relationship is strained. Except Fred and Mrs. Weasley, I think everyone only really  _ tolerates  _ me. I’d like to have someone there who actually likes me.”

“I will try to stop in. I do not wish to have your holiday ruined by an altercation with Black,” Snape said. “If I do not come, let me wish you happy Christmas now.”

“Thanks, Professor. Happy Christmas.”

Back in the dorm, Hermione was already packed. “I’ll be stopping at home first, of course, and then going to join you. Won’t your family miss you?”

Harley sighed, hoping that no one was listening. “In order to protect the people who adopted me, I had a Memory Charm put on them. They do not know me anymore, and it is for the best. The Dark Lord cannot trace them to me or any other wizards.”

She had expected Hermione to reprimand her, but to her surprise she did not. “Oh. Don’t you miss them?”

Harley shook her head. “They cared for me, but they were not exactly loving people. I think they were always a little afraid of me. This is better for everyone.”

Instead of taking the Hogwarts Express, Harley walked to Hogsmeade and then Apparated right into Grimmauld place, startling Black, Lupin, and Potter, who were all in the living room.

“What the bloody-- _ Harley _ !” Lupin cried. “You could have done that in the front hall!”

Shedding her cloak she replied, “True. But scaring Snuffles over here was much more entertaining for me. How is Mr. Weasley?”

Her godfather smiled at her. “Now you sounded just like your mum. ...Arthur will be home tonight,” Lupin said.

“Thanks to Harry,” Black added, smiling at Harry who was not looking exactly pleased. In fact, he was still shaken, it seemed.

“Do not say it like this connection with the Dark Lord is a good thing,” Harley said. “It could be dangerous. If he can see  _ his  _ thoughts, who is to say that the opposite is not also true?”

Black scowled at her. “Harry saved a life, and you have the nerve to be negative?”

“Dark magic comes at a price, always,” Harley said. “This connection is a leftover from the Killing Curse. You honestly think that it’s some sort of  _ blessing _ ?”

Lupin held up his hands. “Please, both of you, stop. We need to be sure we don’t upset Arthur when he comes here, and this is Christmas. Can’t you two put aside your animosity for a couple of weeks?”

“I can,” Black said. “Can you, or will you hold grudges for twenty years like your father?”

Harley had amazing patience. Whenever she was around either Sirius Black or Alicia Spinnet, that patience seemed to magically vanish. “Still with the jabs? You do not like me because I simply  _ look  _ like my father, and you have the nerve to ridicule he and I for holding grudges? Look in the mirror the next time you want to make an accusation.”

“This is going to be a long vacation,” Lupin sighed. “I need to go. I will be back for the actual holiday, most everyone will be.”

“It might be the last decent one we get,” Harry said darkly.

“Well, aren’t you a bloody ray of sunshine, brother dear,” Harley snapped. Privately, she agreed with Remus: this was going to be a very long vacation.

When the Weasleys returned that evening with Arthur, Harley’s mood brightened considerably as she kissed Fred hello.

Hermione arrived two days later, earlier than they had expected her. When she came, she yanked Harley aside. “I think you’re a genius.”

“I am one, but why are you telling me that?” Harley asked.

Hermione sighed, her expression desolate. “I put a Memory Charm on my parents.”

Harley wanted to yell, but secrecy was the name of the game here, obviously. “The Ministry is going to kill you, Hermione! Why would you do that underage? If you so desperately wanted it done, you could have asked me,” she hissed. “Or Professor Snape, for that matter.”

“I did it because if Voldemort really is getting stronger, then my parents aren’t safe. I did it so they can...be normal. Happy. Please don’t tell anyone. I will tell them all eventually.” Hermione looked close to tears. “I put a silencing spell on the house when I did it. I think it hid the spells, or the Ministry has gotten too busy to monitor underage wizards.”

Harley patted her shoulder. “It’s all right. I will not tell anyone. That was quite a feat you managed at your age. You should be pleased with yourself. Come on, before people start to think I’m trying to corrupt you back here.”

Mrs. Weasley tried with all her might to make this a good Christmas. Harley noticed that even Sirius’s bad attitude was getting better. He was singing carols off-key all over the house as he helping hang decorations.

Harley also assisted, because she hadn’t brought any Potions materials with her to do any work. She actually started to get into the spirit herself, making decorations and humming along when Mrs. Weasley played the Muggle carols Harley had grown up with.

“Hey, Harley, since when can you sing?” Fred asked. “You’ve got a great voice.”

Harley blushed. She hadn’t realised she had been singing aloud. It was Christmas Eve and she had been feeling the most festive she had in her life. Despite war getting ready to wage, she had a man who loved her (why, she did not know), a career ready-made, and she had an adult who truly believed in her for the first time since she was three. It felt good.

They exchanged gifts early in the day, before supper. Not everyone had been able to get out to buy things, but Harley had saved quite a bit of Galleons thanks to Snape, and she had even remembered to buy presents for Black, Tonks, Kingsley, and Moody.

“Do you think you’re funny?” Lupin asked when he opened her gift. She had bought him a copy of the Gothic novel  _ The Werewolf of Paris _ by Guy Endore.

“Extremely,” she replied, opening his gift, which was a hair ornament with a living lily. It was bewitched to regrow itself whenever the flower died. “Lovely. Thank you.” It seemed as though her godfather had finally started warming up to her.

She had bought Fred some Muggle jokes from a joke shop, and he seemed very amused with them, saying how he could use these as templates for the shop. That was what she had been hoping for. He had also bought her a Muggle gift: a silver locket with an “H” engraved on the front, with Gothic designs in the metal.

She grimaced at buying anything for Black, and had entertained dog chow or a collar and leash...until she thought about what Black and Lupin could do with the latter and began to feel ill. Instead she had appealed to his inner Marauder and gotten him a shirt that said, “Yes, I’m serious”.

He laughed merrily when he saw the shirt. “Maybe there is more of Lily in you than I had originally thought! Thanks, kid.”

She had given her brother something she came up with herself: glasses that would never break, and that would change with his eyesight as he got older.

Petunia Dursley was Harley’s aunt as well, and many would wonder why she never made the attempt to try and meet her family. She had not cared to, not after learning what they had done to her brother. If she had come face-to-face with the Dursleys, chances were she’d have killed them. They locked Harry up, starved him, let their son abuse him, and she learned that Harry had had the same glasses since he was nine years old. All because he was a wizard. It made her feel sick, and a small part of her would never forgive Dumbledore for not finding someone else to be his guardian, Charm or no Charm.

It also made her understand what the Death Eaters wanted. Harry’s Muggle family abused him, and hers was frightened of her. They could be a very serious threat to the Wizarding World via the connection they had through Muggle-borns or magical folk who grew up like she and her brother did.

She spent part of the day cooking with Molly, who hated using magic to do household chores. She and Harley often got in each other’s way, but it was nice being with a motherly figure in the kitchen.

While they were starting to plate the food, they heard the front door opening. “Did we forget anyone?” Molly asked.

“It’s not like we do not have enough food,” Harley commented, trying to listen to find out who happened to come so late. Even Moody had gotten in early.

When Sirius came grumbling into the kitchen with a look of utter hate on his face, Harley did not need to guess any longer. She called from the kitchen, “Hello, Professor! Happy Christmas!”

Sirius glared daggers into her back, which she pretended not to notice. She was very glad the professor had decided to show up and she went out to greet him properly. She found him talking with Fred near the grand piano, and Fred looked fairly happy. That was a good sign. She heard her boyfriend mention something about controlled combustible potions.

“Glad you came, sir,” she said. “And just in time: dinner is nearly ready.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” he replied. “You’ve been quite the good influence on Weasley here, I see.”

She went back into the kitchen and Sirius said, “Let me guess,  _ you  _ invited him?”

“It’s Christmas, Black. Be nice. He is obviously making an effort to,” she said, setting the table by making the plates fly into the dining room. The clatter made the portrait of Mrs. Black start up her yelling before someone shut the curtains around it again.

When the food was around the table, and everyone had congratulated Molly and Harley on making such a great meal, Lupin stood up with his glass in hand.

“Before we begin, I just wanted to say I am very grateful for  _ everyone  _ sitting around this table. My old friends, my new friends, the wonderful children, though you are not all so young, my goddaughter, and members of the Order. I am glad that old hate can be forgotten to celebrate this day of peace, and I hope that this can be a symbol of the good we can do, the peace we can all bring about together.”

He sat down and Sirius clapped him on the back, looking oddly misty. Harley was sure they were missing James Potter, and thinking about what good days had gone, to never come again.

After some guests’ initial bad reaction to Snape’s presence subsided, the dinner was a noisy affair with laughter, mostly thanks to the twins. Harley found herself smiling at Fred for no reason other than the fact that she loved him and he made her happy. He was the reason she wanted to join the Order, because he deserved to live a long and happy life. Hopefully he would choose that life with her.

After dinner, Snape had told Harley he wanted to go, but she refused to let him. “It is a holiday, you are allowed to have fun and smile, even during times like these.”

Harley made drinks: hot chocolate with peppermint and a shot of coffee liqueur. Everyone but Ginny was allowed to have some, and Ron coughed when he sipped his. “You’re so great at Potions, why did you put so much bloody liquor in here?”

“Ronald, language,” Molly scolded.

“Perhaps you should have yours plain like Ginny if you’re too young to handle it,” she replied, sipping her own drink. “The Blacks have the good stuff here, so I will be damned if I am not using it.”

Sirius laughed darkly. “That’s about the only good thing in this house.”

“No, you have a lovely piano that cost as much as my shop probably did,” Harley commented. “Who was the musician in your family?”

“No one, as far as I know,” Sirius replied. “Any of you lot play? We could do with some music to accompany the carols we’ve been singing.”

Everyone shook their heads no, but Severus cleared his throat, color high in his cheeks. “I play. A little. A...friend’s sister taught us.” He looked down as he said that, and Sirius gave him another deadly glare.

“Perfect: you play and Harley and I are singers,” Fred said. He was a surprisingly good contralto. George had skipped that gene.

With much persuading from Harley, Snape went to the ebony grand piano, his cloak billowed out behind him, and touched a few keys. “Self-tuning. Even your musical instruments are bewitched. Your mother was as much of a fanatic about having no Muggle things around as the Dark Lord,” he commented.

“Trust me, I know that.”

Severus began to play, and everyone was stunned by his abilities. He began a simple Muggle hymn, one that Harley had heard all her life and she began to sing, her sweet voice as deep as her speaking one, and just as controlled.

She and Fred sang a duet of “The Christmas Song”, and Fred sang solo on a Wizarding carol Harley did not know.

It was the happiest Harley had been in her life, and she wished the night would never end.

She was the only person aside from Lupin and Sirius who was allowed in the room late that night when Snape told Harry about the Occlumency lessons Dumbledore had ordered, and she saw her brother go stark white at the thought of extra time spent with Snape. It was soon after that that the Potions Master took his leave.

Harley walked him to the door and handed him a wrapped present. “Thanks for coming. And happy Christmas.”

He took it, opening it and seeing what she had worked on: a pseudo-Muggle instrument. Muggles were fond of making oddly shaped erasers for the tops of their pencils. Harley had come up with one that would sit on the end of his quill, and would work to remove ink. It was the shape of a snake, the Slytherin mascot. It would never run down with use.

He smiled at her, and it faded as quickly as it had come. “Your magical skills astound me still. Thank you. I left your gift on your bed. Charmed, no one but you can open it. Goodnight, Harley.”

She went upstairs to see that Hermione, Tonks, and Ginny were still up, talking. Sure enough, there was a black-wrapped box sitting on Harley’s bed.

“What is that?” Tonks asked.

Harley opened the lid of the box and saw two photo albums, one of which turned out to be a Hogwarts yearbook. Before she opened it, she read the note Snape had left in there.

_ “I went through the school, knowing they had to keep old photos somewhere. This was the last year we had a yearbook, as well, because it was not a popular concept in our world any longer. A little bit more on where you come from, and hopefully these things will be of some comfort in the coming dark days. The photos were all taken in your parents’ neighbourhood, or Hogwarts. Happy Christmas.” _

“These are of my mum,” she said, opening the album. It was black, leather-bound, and Harley was stunned, wondering if Severus had actually spent time putting this together for her by hand. It was then she noticed some captions, mostly just dates and locations, all in his hand. What a nice thing for him to have done.

The girls drew around her, looking at the beautiful redheaded girl. Photos of Lily in childhood, at Hogwarts, and in what must have been her backyard during summer holiday filled it. Many of them were clumsily taken, as if by another child. Almost all of them moved, though a few were from Muggle cameras.

They were by a river, many of them, under a large tree. One of the moving ones, Harley could see her mother was holding the hand of the photo taker, it looked like a boy. In almost all of them, she was smiling widely. But Harley’s favourite was one that had been taken while she was unawares, sitting under the tree with the sun shining off the polluted riverbank. Lily had been about thirteen, looking away from the boy taking the photographs, and the photo showed her sombre but peaceful, slowly looking up, seeing the camera, and giving a warm smile.

“I wish I knew her,” Harley said.

“She seemed really nice,” Ginny said. “Harry has photos, too, of her and his dad. Hagrid got them for him, I think. She seems like someone we’d all like.”

“You are so much like her, even though you don’t see it,” Tonks piped up. “I only met her once, when I was little, but she was sweet, and bright. A lot like you.”

Harley opened the yearbook, which was from 1975, the year her mother had been fifteen. She did so because Tonks’s words had made her feel uncomfortable, and she needed a change of subject.

The front page listed the year, and the teaching staff. The only names she knew were Albus Dumbledore, who was headmaster already, and Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher, not yet Head of Gryffindor. (Not including poor dead Binns, of course.)

Hermione peered over her shoulder excitedly, and the other two did as well. Harley skipped the first four years’ photos, stopping at the fifth years, whose photos were in alphabetical order. 

“Oh, my Merlin, Sirius was a punk!” Tonks laughed.

Sirius Black’s hair was shiny and black, better taken care of than many of the girls’ coeffs in the book, and he wore a black leather jacket over his school robes, which was riddled with buttons for The Clash, Sex Pistols, and more.

“Sirius Orion Black

“Gryffindor (fifth year)

“‘The only thing darker than my name is my hair.’”

On the opposite page was a beautiful redhead, smiling widely.

“Lily Evans

“Gryffindor (fifth year; prefect)

“‘Let your powers bloom like a flower.’”

Harley was struck by not the similarities, but the vast differences between herself and her beautiful, popular mother. How on Earth did anyone manage to see similarities between the two of them? It was like comparing the sun to a black hole.

Turning the page, they saw another familiar face, smiling through scars.

“Remus John Lupin

“Gryffindor (fifth year)

“‘Let’s go take a howl at that moon.’”

Harley smirked. “Subtle. Why didn’t he just transform for the camera?” On the opposite page was someone that made Harley do a double-take. It was Harry. Uncanny. He was grinning cockily at the camera, turning slightly as if he were modeling. Pretentious.

“James Potter

“Gryffindor (fifth year; Quidditch Captain; Chaser; prefect)

“‘If you can’t beat ’em, make ’em laugh.’”

“Wow. He really does look just like Harry,” Ginny said, awed. “Except for the eyes.”

Harley wasn’t listening, instead looking at a different familiar face on the page, below Potter. A face without a smile, but one she was as comforted by as that of her mother.

“Severus Tobias Snape

“Slytherin (fifth year; prefect)

“‘The downtrodden shall always rise above.’”

Cryptic quote, but one that Harley could agree with. Look at her, all her life being verbally and at times physically abused by classmates, she was close to being a businesswoman and a member of the Order, saving the Wizarding World.

Turning the pages she saw the Quidditch teams. She noticed a “Regulus Black” on the Slytherin team.

The next page had all of the prefects and Head Boy and Girl standing together. The only two people not looking at the camera were Lily and Severus. Lily has just said something and Severus was laughing. She was laughing with him. Of the few photos of him in the book, it was the only one in which he ever looked happy.

They saw other faces that were much less pleasant to behold: Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black, and her older sister, Bellatrix Black, who was a seventh year. The Slytherin House was filled with the names of Death Eaters: the Black family (minus Sirius), Snape (though he was no longer part of that group), Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Carrow, and a few others Harry had seen with Voldemort. The only known Death Eater not in Slytherin was Peter Pettigrew, the little rat.

“It’s a shame that a few bad eggs have made the name of Slytherin into something people spit rather than say,” Harley commented. “Merlin himself was a Slytherin, and yet everyone conveniently forgets that.”

She closed the book and put it aside. This had been the best Christmas gift she had ever received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I'm writing the story and am pissed at Harley for not putting two and two together yet about her father!


	23. Uprising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Umbridge finds out about the DA, and after Dumbledore makes his escape, Snape takes steps to ensure Harley's safety under the new headmistress' rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who wondered how Snape was going to retaliate against Umbridge for hurting Harley, here it is. He can't touch her, but...you'll see.  
> And I wanted to show that, like Snape, Harley cares about Harry's well-being, albeit in a mean way.

By the time school was back in session, everyone was almost glad to be away from Grimmauld Place, where Sirius was getting more and more agitated, which, in turn, made Molly just as in a twist. Harley stayed in the basement as much as possible, because she didn’t want to get dragged into a fight. She kept looking at the prefects’ photo, seeing her mother and Severus laughing together, wishing she could see her mother smile in person, and wishing there was a way to make her favourite professor laugh like that now.

When they got to Hogwarts, it was shocking to see how many new decrees Umbridge had managed to get passed, including one that said students could be flogged as punishment! It was insane, and Harley found herself entertaining the thought of leaving Hogwarts early with the twins. Lee had not even returned to school, instead going to work as a Quidditch announcer.

It was getting more and more prudent for them to keep their DA meetings secret. The Room of Requirement was as secure a place as they could get, but it was not impenetrable, which Harley kept reminding them about. She did not trust everyone in the DA, specifically Cho Chang and her friend Marietta Edgecombe, nor Zacharias Smith. She also, of course, did not like being in the same room with Alicia, but at least she was certain that Alicia wasn’t going to tattle to Umbridge.

When she voiced her thoughts to Harry, he brushed her off, saying Hermione’s jinx should keep everyone quiet.

“It is your trust in everyone that makes me think you are a fool, Potter,” she said, leaning against the painting of the Fat Lady. “Now, may I offer you some advice about where you are going?”

He groaned. “You mean to my unnecessary extra lessons?”

“They are not unnecessary. If you think so, go and tell Dumbledore that, since he is the one who ordered them,” Harley reminded him. “I know you and Professor Snape do not get along. However, you let him goad you far too easily. You need to ignore any personal feelings and concentrate on what he is teaching you.”

Harry spluttered incredulously, “You--you think I should not let  _ Snape  _ goad  _ me _ ? Are you joking? He’s the adult, he should--”

“Harry, shut up, will you? You have seen how he is. It is not just you he dislikes, you know. None of the other students get their knickers in a bind like you do about it,” she said. “These are vitally important, and you need to pay attention. I am not joking. Forget about who is teaching you and concentrate on what you are supposed to be learning.”

He sighed. “I know. I’m going to try, okay? Now get inside before anyone wonders why you’re out here with me.”

Harley spent the evening nestled against Fred while she read some of her mother’s journal, learning more than she would have liked about James and Sirius’s dangerous, oftentimes mean pranks. It looked as if her father had been a frequent victim of their bullying. Fred and George were the jokers of Hogwarts now, and never had they hung students upside down, threatened them, embarrassed them, or tried to kill them at the Whomping Willow. Those two boys had been terrible, borderline criminal. James reminded her quite a bit of Draco Malfoy. How could anyone think Lily would want to be with James without any sort of coercion?

As she was closing the journal, Harry came back. Ron and Hermione tried asking him what was going on, but he just grumbled and went and sequestered himself in his dorm.

“I don’t think it went well,” Fred commented.

“Of course not. Snape is a terrible teacher, especially to  _ almost  _ all of us Gryffindors,” Alicia commented.

Harley sighed. “Only petty Muggles hate on the students teachers favour. Are you  _ sure  _ your Muggle parents sent you to the right school?”

Alicia shot out of her seat, but Angelina held her back. Harley never got up, secure in the knowledge that she was still the better woman here. She knew better than to start a fight, but she also knew how to hold her own. She wasn’t afraid of confrontation as long as she knew she was in the right.

 

****

 

Harley spent a lot more time thinking about her brother and his lack of progression following his Occlumency lessons. Snape was now getting more and more furious after each one, and the whole thing seemed to be going wrong somehow.

Judging by the hollows under Harry’s eyes, he was still having nightmares connected to Voldemort. The idiot, was he not working on his lessons, against Dumbledore’s orders? He could not be that childish, to not want to practise just because Snape was his teacher, could he?

She recalled something Snape had once said about the human mind, how it can be manipulated but not read like a book, as Muggle stories say. She was in the library during a free period when the thought came to her, and she put her book down to really think on this idea.

Harry could see into Voldemort’s mind, and at times the Dark Lord knew when Harry was there, seeing what he saw, feeling what he felt. What if he sent Harry a false message? What if he persuaded Harry to take rash action (knowing he, as a Gryffindor, was prone to acts of bravery laden with stupidity) by sending him a false memory?

Gathering her things, she went to the only person with whom she could talk about such things, passing Luna and Ginny on her way.

“Hey, are you coming?” Ginny asked, gesturing to the gold coin where the DA got their information about meetings.

“Yes, but I just had a thought and I need some answers first: then the whole DA needs to know if I happen to be right. See you.” Harley dashed off, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while still walking faster than normal to minimize time consumption.

She finally reached the dungeons after facing a disappearing staircase and false door, and knocked and entered without being admitted, something she never did.

Snape was at his desk and he looked startled when she burst into the room. “Harley! Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir, sorry for barging in,” she said, closing the door. “But I had an idea and I cannot safely speak to anyone about it but you, because Umbridge is always sniffing around Dumbledore’s office.” For once, she didn't care if he wanted to take points from her or not.

“Please, sit,” he said, but she kept pacing.

“The Dark Lord can, in all possibilities, see into Harry’s mind and know when Harry is seeing into his, correct?”

He nodded. “That is the idea, yes.”

“Well, what if he can make Harry see things that are not real? How can he differentiate?” She asked.

The Potions Master shrugged, aloof. “I do not know. There is no discernable difference, but Potter would not be able to tell even if there was, because he has barely made an  _ attempt  _ at learning Occlumency. Our lessons have been a waste of my time. Believe me, I have told him what could happen, just as you fear. It made no difference to him.”

“Hermione seems to think that he likes this connection. It makes him feel special and important. I am inclined to agree with her,” Harley said.

Snape nodded again. “I think you are both very correct. He has been coddled and praised from the moment he entered this world, and it got into his head this year especially. If he is not made to feel special, then Potter will become less than he is in his own mind, and that will not do for him.”

“Precisely, and that makes him very difficult to deal with,” Harley said, remembering the temper tantrums he had thrown over the summer at Grimmauld Place. “Whatever he is doing wrong, he is a fool. He thinks because he is the Boy Who Lived he can undermine rules and control these things on his own. We do not get along, but I cannot bare to think what might become of him because of that mindset.”

“You are a very kind girl to worry about him, and you should: he is your brother. But mind you, you have your own life to think about. This war, it is not your fight,” Snape said.

Harley shook her head. “Sir, the Dark Lord killed my mother. This is my fight. I want to defeat him, and I want to assist so no one has to live like I have...alone.”

She saw his expression change for just a second before his usual scowl was back in place. “You are not alone, Harley. Maybe you were once, but not any longer.”

She was going to respond when the door to Snape’s office opened without a knock and a Slytherin named Blaise Zabini entered. “Thank Merlin, she’s here. Sir, I am sorry, but I need to take Harley Torrance to the headmaster’s office right away. It is on Umbridge’s orders, sir.”

Snape glowered. “What does she want with her?” he snapped. “And five points from Slytherin for neglecting to knock.”

“I--I cannot say what she wants, sir.”

Harley stood up and said, “I’ll go, Professor. Especially if it is in Dumbledore’s office. Thanks for the talk.”

Zabini went to take her arm and she whipped out her wand. “Touch me, kid, and I will Obliviate you into thinking you’re a trained monkey for the travelling circus.” Zabini’s dark skin went ashen. He was a powerful wizard, but it seemed he was one of the students who were, for some reason, terrified of Harley. It helped, especially at times like these.

In the office, she saw that the entire DA was there, including Cho’s friend, who had “SNEAK” written across her face in garish pimples.  _ Good job, Hermione _ , she thought.

She knew what was happening, she knew that the DA had been found out. As she faced Dumbledore and a few people from the Ministry, she stared calmly, knowing she could easily lie her way out of this, especially since one of the officials was Kingsley Shacklebolt, a tough as nails member of the Order and the Ministry.

“What happened, Headmaster?” she asked, ignoring Umbridge.

The toadlike woman said, “There has been a secret group meeting, which is against Decree Twenty-Three.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Harley asked. “I was just in Professor Snape’s office, having a conference.” It was mean, but if she could escape punishment, she was going to do whatever it took. Even lie about her involvement altogether.

“According to Marietta, you were a member of this...Dumbledore’s Army. Your name is on the list of members, in your handwriting. Zabini, check her pockets for the gold coin,” Umbridge ordered.

Harley again took her wand out. “There is no decree saying students who have not left the castle recently can be searched. If he, or anyone else, touches me, I have no problem knocking them straight into Hogsmeade.”

“Threatening a member of the Ministry is punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban,” Umbridge said, her face reddening.

“This is not a threat. This is a student defending her rights.” She did not lower her wand.

Umbridge then turned her questioning to Marietta, who was suddenly drawing a blank, thanks to Kingsley’s quick Memory Charm that none but Harley seem to have heard.

No one was more surprised when Dumbledore claimed responsibility for the entire DA, but even Harley admired his getaway plan: disappearing with help of Fawkes and some Charms and no one could possibly figure out just where he went, since Apparating inside Hogwarts was impossible.

With Umbridge the new headmistress of the school, every student except for Malfoy and his gang knew that they were in very deep trouble.

 

****

 

Severus Snape was a man who held his emotions close to his chest, rarely giving them a voice, but on this night after Dumbledore decided to take a poorly-timed sabbatical, he was letting his rage flare up as he stalked the darkened corridors of Hogwarts in search of a very particular staff member, once he had known that Umbridge would indeed began using corporal punishment on misbehaving students. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do what he wanted to do to her without going to Azkaban himself, but he needed to do  _ something _ .

He and Argus Filch had been on decent terms, mostly based on their mutual hatred for most of the student body, but now he and Filch had one very big issue between them, one he was going to put to bed immediately.

He found the caretaker in the hall nearest the trophy collection.

He called his name, and the old Squib jumped in shock. “Severus, what’s the matter with you? It’s two in the morning!”

Severus grabbed Filch by his jacket and shoved his up against the stone wall, getting the old glee in his heart from seeing how the man’s eyes widened in fear. One of the reasons he had loved being a Death Eater was the fear he was able to instill in others. He found he missed that adrenaline rush.

Severus held him still with one large hand, and with the other pressed the tip of his wand to Filch’s jugular. “You listen to me, you fucking Squib,” he said, his voice low in his throat. “I don’t care what Umbridge says you are allowed to do to any of these brats, but if I ever hear you laid so much as a sideways glance on Harley Torrance, let alone a hand, I will gladly skin your cat alive and feed her to you... _ do we have an understanding _ ?”

Filch stuttered, fear making him tremble beneath Severus’ grip. Severus didn’t need to press much as he cast a silent  _ Legilimens  _ spell: Filch knew what he had been and what he still was, he knew things Severus had done the many others would shudder to think about. Skinning a cat would be tiddlywinks to him.

Filch nodded his head swiftly, and Severus let him sink to the ground, knees too weak to hold him up.

“I wouldn’t be done with you after that, either,” Severus said conversationally. “In case you ever  _ think  _ of hurting her, let me leave you with this:  _ Crucio _ .” He walked away with a smile on his face as he heard the caretaker moaning in pain behind him.


	24. Student Teaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new project for seventh and first years could spell disaster for Harley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of a chapter last week! I was super busy. This one was fun to write and I hope you all like it and my new OC, Neville's cousin. Enjoy! xo

 

One morning right after Dumbledore left, Umbridge stood up at breakfast and said she had an announcement. On any given day, from any other professor, that would have been met with rapt attention from every student, but since the Ministry had become so invasive, every single thing any school official said usually resulted in apathetic dislike and disinterest.

“One of the things we always want to do here at Hogwarts is make sure that our students are as knowledgeable in their classes as possible, and also ready to be authority figures out there in the real world. That being said, next week we will be doing a new, Ministry approved experiment with our first and seventh years.

“Each teacher is going to pick their best seventh year student to teach two classes: first year Gryffindors and Slytherins, and first year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. It will determine that those students are indeed prepared for graduation. On Friday, seventh years chosen will be receiving instructions from their professors about their classes.

“While this is another test, I also want to stress that it should be  _ fun  _ for everyone involved. Especially the seventh years chosen.”

There was an excited murmur in the Great Hall, the most excited everyone had been since the year had begun. Harley had no reason to be excited: she was working her arse off to get an ‘E’ grade in Transfiguration, so she was certain McGonagall would never choose her in a million years. Snape would, of course, be picking someone from his own House for Potions. Besides, whatever Umbridge wanted, she was probably looking for either future Ministry drones or students to get into trouble during this ‘exercise’.

That Friday, Harley received the first piece of mail she had ever gotten at Hogwarts save her parents’ Christmas gifts and a gift of Gobstones and a rare Potions book she’d received in her fifth year from a still unknown sender. This was delivered not by an owl but a sleek black raven. Its envelope was equally black, edged in metallic green.

She was not even mad that people were staring: it  _ was  _ odd. She fed the raven some of her granola before opening her letter. On Professor Snape’s distinctive black parchment was written:

“ _ Miss Torrance, please report to my office at 6pm to discuss your teaching the first year Potions classes on Monday and Tuesday. Congratulations on being my top student for the fourth year in a row. _

“ _ Please do not disclose this information to anyone: we do not want the first years knowing who will be teaching them until the day dawns. _

“ _ From the desk of Professor S. Snape _ ”

Harley grinned to herself as she slipped the note into the pocket of her robes and Fred nudged her in the side.

“Love, only  _ you  _ would get a black envelope and black parchment, delivered by a raven!” He grabbed her hand and gently indicated to the letter he had received: he was going to teach Charms! He mouthed, “Potions?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. The feeling that Umbridge wanted them to make trouble for themselves intensified, but she couldn’t deny she was a tiny bit excited.

That evening, Harley went into Professor Snape’s office with a bit of a spring in her step. Sure she was nervous about teaching (she was terrible in front of people, even just eleven year old kids, though the DA had helped her confidence when it was still up and running), but she was so pleased at being chosen.

“Good evening, Harley,” Snape said. “Please sit.”

“Thank you for choosing me, sir,” she said as she sat across from his desk.

“There was no choice: your scores are really quite stunning, even to me. And of course, I am also taking into account how well you were teaching in the DA meetings. Now...I tried finding out what potion someone unqualified could teach without these dunderheads causing a major accident, and was hard pressed. Finally, I decided on this one. Simple enough but not so much that you will be bored teaching it. ...And one that Umbridge cannot possibly find fault in.”

He handed her a slip of paper with instructions for a simple burn cure meant to ease the pain of dragonfire. She had never brewed it, but it would take a complete idiot not to be able to make something so basic.

“I am surprised the Ministry is letting us do anything that might be considered fun,” Harley commented.

Snape nodded. “This is the only thing the Ministry has done this year that hasn’t made me want to  _ avada kedavra _ myself.”

Harley couldn’t contain a girlish giggle at that one. “Sorry, sir. I agree, however.”

He smiled wryly. “I am not sure which way you will lean towards when you teach: the way your mum would have, or the way you’ve been taught by me. Remember that the Ministry is grading this, so try to be...considerate, even if it is just for the sake of saving your own skin.” He handed her another parchment. “This has more details on the two classes and what time you need to be in my office for a quick briefing on the first day. Below are the homework assignments you’ll have to hand out. And there is a list of students to look out for: pranksters, know-it-alls, rule breakers, and those who are generally just rubbish at Potions period.”

“So...in order we have Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Neville categories?” she asked, laughing as she glanced at the list. Indeed, there was Patricia Longbottom’s name under ‘hopeless’.

Leaving his office, she bumped into Fred as they walked back to the Gryffindor common room.

“So, Alicia is teaching Transfiguration, Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff has Herbology, Marcus Flint from Slytherin is teaching flying, some bloke from Ravenclaw I don’t know got Astronomy, Angelina is teaching Care Of Magical Creatures, and I haven’t heard about any other classes, but I don’t recall taking many more in my first year.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, the no-touching rule be damned.

“I’m proud of us,” she said. “Are you nervous?”

“Me? I don't know how to be nervous,” he said, puffing up just a little. “Besides, kids like me. Especially after I sold them those Puking Pastilles to get out of class. I’ll make sure no one takes them when we’re teaching.”

“I will be confiscating any Weasley products, believe me,” she said, nudging him in the ribs.

 

****

 

On Monday, the four Gryffindors who had teaching duties were off the hook for classes, and they had the common room all to themselves. They also had this day to not wear their uniforms. Alicia was trying to fix a hat like McGonagall’s on her curls, Angelina had used a Weasley/Torrance potion to dye some of her braids red and gold (a thing Harley was rather proud of), and Fred was clad in a ridiculous getup with ruffles and a bowtie.

“Are you teaching Potions or leading a funeral procession?” Alicia taunted Harley. “You don't actually have to dress like Snape to take over for him, you know.”

“You should talk,” Harley said, gesturing to the hat. Harley was wearing a high-necked black dress with sleeves and hems edged with lace under her usual black cloak. With a flick of her wand and a spell, “ _ Incendio _ ,” they all watched as Alicia’s hat flared up and then turned to dust on her head.

“And with that, I’ll be going,” Harley said, stalking out of the Gryffindor Tower and down into the dungeons to meet with Snape in his office.

“All prepared, Harley?” he asked when she entered.

“Yes, sir, as prepared as I will be for a room filled with thirty children,” she replied.

“I will be here in my office, in case of an emergency, but I will not be overseeing the class, or making you feel as though you are being evaluated. Your grade comes solely from reports the students will give, and their scores on the potion you’ll be teaching. Best of luck,” he said.

“I will need it,” she replied, taking a breath before exiting the office and going to the door of the Potions classroom. She closed her eyes, recalling how, when she attended her first official class with Snape, he had transfixed her with his grace and confidence.  _ If only I had one tenth of that _ , she thought, opening the door. However, she was not a bad actress, so she’d give it her best shot.

Today was the Gryffindors and Slytherins, and she saw some of her Housemates glance at her uneasily as she walked to the front of the class, head high and cloak flowing. She had gotten a bit of a reputation since she’d used the Bleeding Curse and called Spinnet a Mudblood that had trickled down even to the new students this year.

“Welcome,” she said, glad her voice didn’t shake. “I am sure you know by now that this is the student-teacher portion of the year. You should not find me any different from Professor Snape. I require concentration, precision, and no funny business. Do you hear me, Lande?” The blue-eyed boy was often getting up to something in the Gryffindor common room.

One Slytherin girl raised her hand.

“Yes, Danvers?”

“What should we call you? You’re not a professor, right?”

“Miss Torrance will suffice,” Harley replied. “Miss, or ma’am as well. I may be a student, but any disrespect shown towards me today will result in points lost and a potential detention with Professor Snape.

“Today you will be learning  _ adolebitque _ resinæ, a salve to ease the singular burn effects of dragonfire. If you follow the instructions, there is no reason for any of you to get anything less than an ‘Acceptable’ grade. Your ingredients are on your desks, and,” she flicked her wand, saying the silent spell that Snape used to make his instructions appear on the blackboard, “the instructions are on the board. Begin.”

She waited for them to have begun to set the base of the potion before she made her rounds around the classroom, noticing the students who were professional and precise, and the ones who looked as though they were flying by the seat of their pants.

“Lande, Rubino, you will blow up the room at the rate you’re both going. A point each from Gryffindor. … Not bad, Danvers. Go a little slower with the stirring. … Merlin’s beard, Horton, you’re lucky this hasn’t burnt through the cauldron. Start over. Now.”

“But what if I don’t finish in time?” the Gryffindor asked defiantly.

“Better to have an ‘Incomplete’ than a ‘Dreadful’. And five points from Gryffindor for talking back. My House is intent on disappointing me today, I see.” She finished her rounds, making a few more comments and taking five more points when she saw a Slytherin trying to cheat by looking at the girl he sat next to.

She waited for them to finish their potions before she began talking, making more rounds. “Now, your potion should be milky white with a jade green cast, the consistency of petroleum jelly.” She shook her head over Rubino’s cauldron. “I’d feel bad for the witch or wizard who needed to use that. ‘Troll’, Rubino, and I hope you try harder on your homework, though I’ll tell Professor Snape not to expect much.” Some of the students snickered.

Most of the students managed ‘Acceptables’, even Horton, the girl who had been whining. After she assigned homework, she sighed and leaned against Snape’s desk. That had been a terrifying fifty minutes, but she managed it.

She heard a door squeak and Snape came into the class from his office.

“How did it go?” he asked.

Managing a smile, she said, “Not so bad. Your Rydell cheats, by the by. I had no idea my House was full of imbeciles.”

“I will have to owl Rydell’s parents. This behaviour has gone on for the entire semester. And do you now see what I have to deal with twice a week? It’s like teaching a bunch of gnomes. I think the house elves would do better under my instruction,” he commented.

Harley shook her head. “Honestly, sir, I don’t know how you do it. You’re brilliant. If I had a fraction of your talent, I’d be long gone, researching and selling potions for a small fortune.”

“You will be,” he reminded her. “You’ve got your shop. And you have much more talent than you give yourself credit for. Ask your Housemates, I am a hard taskmaster. Not easy to please.”

“So they’ve told me. Dozens of times,” she replied.

“Well, then, you understand. I have had a few good students. No one outstanding, not since your mum and I were classmates. You will become better than me one day. After you graduate, I’ll be proud to call you my equal, proud to say I’m the one who educated you. I originally accepted a job here because of my affiliation with the Order, but I grew to enjoy being a professor. It’s students like  _ you  _ that make me enjoy it.”

Harley blushed. “Those words mean more than you know, sir. At my Muggle school, I was top of my class. Always was. Do you know how many people told me they were proud of me? How many teachers, or my adoptive parents?” He shook his head. “None. Not a single one ever expressed any kind words for my accomplishments. No one until you, sir. It’s funny: my whole House either despises or fears you, and yet I believe I have never known a better man and have never looked up to or respected anyone like I do you.”

Her professor reached past her to pick up her notes from class; for a moment he did not reply. “You are different. Anyone who did not express their sheer delight at being your teacher is an idiot. I am a difficult teacher because I demand excellence, or at least your very best. Do you know how many students give me their absolute best? In Gryffindor, that would be you and Granger. Period. Speaking  _ strictly  _ from a teaching standpoint, you are what we all dream of--Wizard or Muggle.”

Harley blushed. “Thank you, sir. ...Tell me, is it true you never wanted to teach Potions?”

He nodded. “Yes, it is. While it was always my best subject as a student and indeed I did study it after graduation, I wanted the Defence position. I believed--and still believe--that only someone who has firsthand knowledge of the Dark Arts can properly teach the best methods of avoiding and defeating them. Dumbledore thought I would be better off here, so here I am.”

This year, the year she became a legal witch, had changed things between her and her professor. No longer was their relationship that of a teacher and student, but more as if they were colleagues. She was able to speak openly with him without fear of repercussions. Certainly, no other student had been able to question him so openly about his career choices.

“Well, I for one am glad this is your class.”

He smirked. “You’re the only Gryffindor to say so. Good afternoon, Harley. Your Housemates will wonder if I’ve cooked you in a potion if you linger much longer, and I have an OWL class to teach...much to your brother’s chagrin.”

Harley laughed as she left, heading to the library. No seventh years had any classes for these two days. The ones who did not have teaching duties had to remain in the library to study or else they’d wind up with detention from Umbridge.

“How was it?” Fred asked her, plopping into the chair next to hers.

“Not bad. I had no idea how careless first years can be,” she replied. “You?”

“We had a blast. I taught them the Jelly-Legs Jinx,” he said, smiling.

Haley shook her head. “Weasley, you’re going to make these kids delinquents already and they’re only eleven.”

 

****

 

Harley was much less nervous on the second day of student teaching, now knowing what to expect. She said hello to Severus before beginning class. There was a different tone to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. It was quieter: from half of the room she was feeling uncertainty, while from the other half she was getting a vibe of ‘student teacher equals stupid teacher’.

She assigned the potion and watched as many of the kids got to work. One Ravenclaw’s hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Miss Cornwall?”

“What qualifies  _ you  _ to teach us this?”

Really, was a little kid going to challenge her intelligence? “The fact that the Ministry and Professor Snape approved me for one lesson. Five points from Ravenclaw for that question and that attitude. Get to work.”

A different Ravenclaw stuck his head up. “She’s right. We were all talking about it last night. This lesson shouldn’t even count.”

“Five points for speaking out of turn, Mr. Vilay. Another five for questioning not just my but Professor Snape’s authority. And since you and Miss Cornwall want to discuss my inadequacy, you can both do so in detention with the  _ official  _ Potions Master. He will inform you of the time. Now, all of you, begin your potions or I will give you a zero for this project.”

Beginning her rounds, she immediately smelt something off. Glancing, she saw one of the kids’ cauldrons was bubbling over with aloe leaves sticking out of it. It was a complete mess, and ready to bubble over at any given moment. She was not surprised when she saw to whom the cauldron belonged.

“Longbottom! What on Earth have you done? Turn the flame off immediately!” Harley said. The girl did so, but in doing knocked a glass phial of an extremely volatile substance that was needed to stabilize the potion to the floor. Smoke came rising up and there was a hissing sound as the few ounces of liquid tried to eat away at the stone floor of the dungeon.

“I-I’m sorry, Miss Torrance,” Longbottom stammered, her eyes filling with tears.

“What were you thinking? The directions were right in front of you. Did your parents never teach you to read, girl?” Harley snapped. “And to top it all off, you nearly ate away your own flesh had that thing broken over your foot and not the floor!”

She sniffled. “I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry does not help anyone when you nearly boiled your cauldron, could have caused an explosion, or lost a limb! There is no excuse for not following very clear directions. Ten points from Hufflepuff for your blatant carelessness.” She waved her wand over the cauldron and its contents disappeared. “Start over.”

“But...but I didn’t mean to…”

“Enough,” Harley cut her off. “Bumbling fools like you and your cousin make Potions class a hazard for the rest of the students.  _ Precision _ , Longbottom, learn the meaning of it. You cannot brew potions of any sort without being careful. A klutz like you will always be a hazard in this room. And stop crying. You’re careless enough without blurring your vision as well.”

_ How on Earth does he handle this every bloody day? _ Harley wondered, finishing her rounds. She did not have to take any more points, and criticism was minimal. No one seemed to want to anger her any more than she already had been.

One more set of rounds around the room, and she noticed that Patricia was still trying not to cry, and she was not very successful. It seemed she had forgotten to add the phial she’d dropped, and the potion was useless.

“Stop snivelling, Longbottom,” Harley said. “You’re not the first student to be hopeless at Potions, and you certainly won’t be the last. ‘Troll’, but do try to make up your grade in homework. I will tell Professor Snape not to expect much, however.” This was the second time she’d had to say that in two days.

Once the class had left, Severus came and asked for her notes as he had the previous day.

“Was there someone crying?” he asked.

“Yes. Evidently the term ‘tough love’ is lost on the entire Longbottom clan. I do not envy you, sir, for having to deal with students like these. Is it any wonder you’re usually out of sorts? I am, and I have only been doing this two days.”

Severus grinned ruefully. “Oh, Harley, you have no idea. Smacking your brother on the head is the least of what I’d like to do to some of them.”

“The brilliance of some of them is ruined by their arrogance. The ones who are kind are usually as dumb as a hippogriff,” she commented.

Her professor laughed, surprising her. “I am sure you did a good job. Sometimes teachers are unable to make a dent in the most hard-headed ones. I will let you know when your grade is in.”

She nodded. “See you tomorrow evening, as long as there are no detentions. I wanted to try brewing a new version of Wideye that doesn't cause seizures in the long run.”

He nodded and dismissed her, and she went to find Fred in the library. In between studying and snogging, she was using the free week to read more of her mother’s neglected journals. They were a window into a happier time, even with the First Wizarding War going on. The first few years were filled with joy and tales of two friends discovering magic. She learned little things about her parents, personality traits and likes that were passed down to her.

Her mother’s taste in music, her father’s taste in clothes. They way she played with her hair was just as her mother described doing it. Her father was the type who paced when nervous or upset, and Harley had also inherited that. Her mother had had a temper and did not suffer bullies gladly. They way she told off James Potter was similar to how Harley told off Malfoy and Alicia. Her father kept it all in, he was a brooder. So was she, as long as it wasn’t about being teased.

In fifth year things started to go downhill between them. Lily had noted that James and Sirius had gotten much worse, and they used her father’s own spells against him many times, much to his public humiliation.

“James wants to make sure I don’t think much of Sev,” Lily wrote. “He has no idea how much I love him, and I will never look at James the way I look at Severus. Never in a million years.”

It seemed her father actually created very successful spells, all by the time he was a fifth year student.

One entry made Harley’s blood run cold. It was tear-stained and written in a shaky hand.

“He called me a Mudblood. Severus, my best friend. My first love. My only love. How could he? It was because of his Housemates. All of Sirius’s relatives, and that Malfoy boy in seventh year. They’re poisoning his mind with tales taken straight from You-Know-Who himself. Power and glory, revenge and death. All he has to do is hate Muggle-borns like me.

“How can I be friends with him knowing that he is starting to side with Death Eaters? I want to change his mind, but if he can call me such a vile name so easily, should I even bother?”

The next.

“He tried to apologise. I should have accepted it. He is the man I love, but my damn Gryffindor pride and stubbornness got the better of me. It was a big mistake to send him away after being so mean to him.”

Haley read all afternoon, learning how they made up that summer back at Spinner’s End. How they had their first kiss by the river. And how they slept together for the first time on Professor Slughorn’s desk (he was their old Potions Master before Snape had taken the job years later).

Reading helped her relax from that awful class. She had been certain that Longbottom’s cauldron was going to explode and injure the students around her. Her and Neville needed hazard signs hung round their necks.

She and Fred were the last people to get into the Gryffindor common room, and once they were in the portrait hole, they could hear sobbing.

“Anyone know why there’s a Hufflepuff crying in Neville’s lap?” Ron asked.

“That’s his cousin, you unobservant idiot,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“Why’s she in our common room?” George asked.

“I’m not sure. She was waiting for us when we got back from class. As soon as she saw Neville, she cried like no tomorrow,” Hermione explained.

Harley walked further into the room, and she could hear Neville trying to talk his cousin down and get her to explain why she was so upset.

“It w-was s-so awful!” Patricia wailed. “I t-thought it w-would be b-better without S-Snape, but I was w-w-wrong!”

“What was awful? Potions class? But except for Rubino and Horton, no one had any complaints yesterday. Patty, come on, tell me what happened,” Neville coaxed. But the girl just buried her head in his robes.

“All right: which Slytherin was teaching Potions?” Neville asked angrily. “You guys must know.” He gestured to the seventh years. “I figured Snape would pick someone just as awful as he is, the bullying git.”

“Aren’t we combative this evening, Longbottom,” Harley said. At the sound of her voice, the eleven-year-old girl abruptly stopped whimpering and took a shaky breath.

“There was no  _ Slytherin  _ teaching Potions,” Alicia spat, glaring at Harley. “But someone who I always said was in the wrong House.”

Neville looked at Harley in a mix of shock and anger. “You treated my cousin like that?”

Harley sighed. “She could have been related to you, me, or Merlin himself: she put the whole class in danger with her carelessness. Can’t handle the heat, get out of Potions class.” she turned to him before going into her dorm. “And thank you, by means of association, for calling me a bully. There’s a big difference between being strict and being a bully, Longbottom.”

 

****

 

Come Friday, Harley waited while everyone got graded on their student teaching. It was the first ‘Outstanding’ Fred had gotten in two years, and of course Angelina and Alicia also were called ‘perfect future educators’.

Marcus Flint had been told he should never set foot in a school again after graduation, and Harley heard Snape berating him in the corridor as she was off to the library. She was concerned that her grade had not come in, and she began to wonder if somehow Longbottom’s complaint could have possibly failed her first ever assignment.

“No way,” Fred whispered as they sat in the library. “Yeah, maybe you were pretty mean to Neville’s cousin, but if she was really a potential hazard, you had no choice.”

Thinking of that bubbling cauldron, Harley nodded. “She was a hazard, believe me.”

Just then, Professor Snape came into the library, holding out a sealed envelope to Harley. “Your results from this week’s project.”

Harley saw he was turning to walk away and said, “Sir, don’t you need to discuss these with me?”

He turned back and said, “Not at all. Good evening Harley...Mr. Weasley.”

Harley opened the envelope and began to read the paper.

 

Student Name: Harley Torrance (seventh year)

Class taught: Potions

House: Gryffindor

Grade: Exceeds Expectations

Grade was chosen due to the following factors: the grades the students received under her instructions, level of authority over the students in her classes, and individual reports from the students themselves. Three of the students gave very unsatisfactory reports, a few gave mediocre, but the majority of students paid the same compliment: Miss Torrance taught nearly as well as Professor Snape did, and seemed to have the same enthusiasm for and knowledge of the subject.

 

Harley sat back in her seat and closed her eyes for a moment, letting relief rush through her. She had been so certain she would fail.

As she was leaving the library, Professor Sprout called her over.

“I am so sorry, dear, but our prefects were injured during Quidditch practice and I have to see to them. Is there any way you could escort a couple of first years to Greenhouse 2 in my stead? I had an extra lesson for my best students this evening and this is making me horribly late.”

“Certainly, Professor,” Harley replied. She went to the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room, where a boy with a cowlick and ill-fitting robes was waiting with Neville’s cousin, whose eyes widened when she caught sight of Harley.

“Sprout asked if I’d escort you both to your lesson while she tends to injured Quidditch players. Follow me.” Harley was not surprised Longbottom was the best Herbology first year. Her cousin also had an aptitude for the subject.

Once in the Greenhouse, she couldn’t leave them there alone. Knowing Longbottom, she’d get her hand bitten off by a plant or poisoned from the Deathday Roses that had just bloomed.

Longbottom  _ was  _ looking at the roses. “What are these?”

_ I’m not your Herbology professor _ , Harley thought but said, “They’re poisonous. They look beautiful but they are deadly and used for various potions with the Dark Arts.”

“Oh. I suppose I won’t be using them, then. Considering I’m rubbish at Potions.”

Harley sighed. “You are not rubbish. You lack concentration. Unlike Transfiguration or Charms, Potions requires a lot more than just a hand movement and a few words. Many people lack the concentration or steadiness necessary for it. Neville cannot brew  _ tea _ , let alone potions.”

Patricia giggled.

“It is possible to improve,” Harley continued. “You just need to understand that you are working with volatile substances. One slip and you could have injured yourself and everyone around you in that class. And being kind and comforting to a hazardous student is not the way to go about things, either. You might not like how Professor Snape and I act, but we do so for the students’ benefit. Gets it through your head better, because coddling does no one any good. I did not mean to make you cry.” True, she hadn’t. She forgot that most people didn’t have thick enough skin for her attitude sometimes.

Patricia nodded. “I see. ...So, you think I can get better?”

Harley scoffed. “Maybe. That depends on you, Longbottom. While you’re trying, may I suggest you keep Madam Pomfrey on hand for any injuries that I am sure will occur.” She smirked. “But if I can give you one piece of advice: try your best. Forget you’re being graded, and just concentrate.”

Just then, Sprout walked in, profusely thanking Harley for staying with the kids. As Harley was going to leave, Patricia asked, “Professor Sprout, can Harley stay and help us?”

Harley saw Sprout’s expression change to one of surprise. “Well, if she wants to she can.”

“Please?” Longbottom asked. Was she really asking her to remain when just four days ago she had been calling Harley “as awful as Snape”?

“Sure, I’ll stay.”


	25. Harley's Patronus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Umbridge tasks Harley and Alicia to go with Snape to deal with a "boggart" in the Forbidden Forest, things get very dark, very fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was a fun one to write. I love drama and action, so I was really in my element here. You should know, I decided to have Snape have been the one to find Lily's body first instead of Sirius (like the movies), because that comes into play here. Enjoy!

After Harry’s third Occlumency lesson--which was surprisingly brief--he sped back into the common room like Voldemort himself was after him, surprising everyone in there.

“What the Hell happened?” Harley called after him, but her only response was the slamming door behind her little brother. That was not good, and the bad mood Harry had come in with was met the next day in Potions by a matching one from Snape.

Actually, it was even worse from Snape, whose black eyes were clouded and his face set in a more tense than usual grimace. In less than five minutes two of the Gryffindors had had ten points each taken from them, and even a Slytherin was not immune to Snape’s anger, when he got twenty points taken off for simply asking a question. (Granted, it  _ was  _ a dumb question.)

He was eerily silent as he walked around the room, only talking to take five points from Fred for not stirring slowly enough. Harley alone had not received the brunt of his anger. She wanted to stay behind and ask him if he was all right, but felt that would be prying. Aside, she did not want to upset him more. She knew that when she was angry, she was better off left alone.

Back in the dorms, Harley caught Harry saying something about a Penseive and Sirius Black. He stopped talking when Harley entered the room, followed by the twins and the other students Snape had taken his anger out on.

They had nothing to do, as Harry, Fred, and George had been banned from Quidditch after a fight with Malfoy, but Harry was not planning to be idle.

“I need to talk to Sirius,” he said.

Harley scoffed. “Okay, sure, just send Hedwig with a nice, detailed note. Or why not try the Floo Network again? That worked wonders last time.”

“Actually, that’s just what I was thinking,” Harry said, green eyes shining behind his glasses. “If we can create a diversion to get Umbridge away from her office for a little while, I can talk to him in her fireplace, because we know it’s not being monitored.”

“Seems like a lot of unnecessary risk to have a conversation. Is it about the Order?” Harley asked.

Harry looked impatient. “Yes--no. Both. It’s about Order members.”

She glared at him. “One of the Dark Lord’s visions?”

Harry shook his head. “A different kind of vision. Not mine...just, I can’t talk about it. Please, trust me?”

“Okay,” Harley sighed. “What can we do?”

She saw the identical gleam in the twins’ eyes, and they smiled. “Leave it to us,” Fred said.

“We know just the thing,” George added.

They worked out a time and day, going over everything fairly quickly. Harley looked at the things that they had created, the Charms they planned on using, and felt a surge of pride. Let Hermione fawn over pigheaded Quidditch players, she loved dating someone as brilliant as Fred was. It didn’t matter that he actually was a Quidditch player, or that he got low OWL scores, what mattered was that he was actually a genius, an inventor, and much stronger than anyone thought he was, including his parents. Harley had always hated the way that Molly kind of skipped over the twins because they had been troublemakers and not prefects or Head Boys. They were just as, if not more, important than Percy or Ron or the other two boys.

He pulled her aside once everyone had gone to sleep and said, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Harley nodded, having been dreading this day for months. “You’re going to leave. Do not misunderstand, I cannot blame you for leaving. I just...it will be so lonely here without you.” She ran her hand down his crooked tie. “You bring life to the place.”

He tilted her head up and smiled, “Just a few more months and you’ll be in your shop. Floo connected, Apparition accessible. And then we will be the most powerful Wizarding couple in Britain. First two small shops...then, the world!”

She giggled. “You are insane, but I bloody love your ambition!” She kissed him hard, trying to tell him things that she was unable to say aloud. He was the only person to make her feel so light, so happy. “Is everyone asleep?” She asked him.

He nodded, and without thinking he took out his wand and cast  _ Muffliato  _ on the whole common room, making sure they could be undisturbed.

 

****

 

What the twins called Operation Bugger Off was going to take place. Harley was nervous, thinking of all the things that could go wrong. She also didn’t like keeping a secret like this from Snape, who trusted her as Head Girl, even though she was not in his House. She hoped this would work.

Watching the madness unfold was something that Harley would never forget as long as she lived. It was more than brilliant, and she could see that even McGonagall was vastly impressed at what the twins had done. It was some serious Charm and Potions work, and she wondered if Professor Snape had seen what they did. He had not been in the main hall when the bulk of their work was released. Flitwick had kept a piece of the chaos contained, almost as a trophy to the twins for their skills.

Finally, after they flooded the hall, the boys made their big speech, which was also a pitch for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes at 93 Diagon Alley, sent a Summoning Charm for their brooms, and left Hogwarts in a most spectacular manner fitting for them. A great way to close out their prank-littered academic career.

With the boys gone, Harley was feeling a little forlorn, but there were still some things to give her amusement, like the fact that the prank war the twins had started did not end when they left. No, it got worse, from sneaky Slytherins bringing things in from Zonko’s, to Hufflepuffs putting plants that caused abrasions on the skin in Umbridge's office, to the odd creatures first year Gryffindors borrowed from Hagrid to hide in her desk, and of course, there was Peeves.

Harley had avoided the poltergeist like the plague as much as possible. He was amusing, but not when he popped in front of you, dropping your books down three staircases, and consequently making you miss the entire beginning of Potions class. Or when he took your wand and pretended to curse your Head of House. After seeing McGonagall’s fear that she wanted to use the Killing Curse on her, Harley never got in the way of the poltergeist again.

Now, Harley loved to sit back and watch what Peeves did, because he was the only one whom the Frog Lady could not punish.

Just when she was thinking that she could get through this horrific year and her NEWTs without too much further incident, she heard the commotion out back by Hagrid’s house. When the fifth years returned to the room, she heard the tale of how Professor McGonagall was now in hospital thanks to Umbridge’s minions. Hagrid was on the run, just like Dumbledore.

This was the worst year yet, and there was still two weeks to go, and NEWTs to take.

The NEWT class was taking an extra study hall, monitored by Professor Flitwick, when there was a bit of a commotion at the door. Harley felt a hand on her back, and saw Professor Snape gesturing for her to come with him. Closing her books, she followed him out of the Great Hall.

“Dare I ask what calamity has occurred now, sir?” She asked.

“Boggart at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Possibly more than one, drawn here by all the fear, I believe. Umbridge refuses to see to it, said I could if I was so fearful of them. Fearful! That woman is an abomination to the Wizarding World.”

“Why am I here, Professor?” Harley asked, 

“You and Miss Spinnet were asked to accompany me. As part of your final Defence grade,” he said, disdain evident in his tone. “Spinnet is already waiting at the doors. Go put your books in your dorm and meet me there as well.”

Harley spluttered, “What--how--she knows! She has to know that Spinnet and I despise each other. She wants to get me in trouble, doesn’t she? As punishment for what I did in her office when the whole DA was confronted.”

Snape said, “I do not think a teenager has ever threatened to curse her before.”

At the doors, Snape stood between the two girls. “I will say this once: any funny business and you will  _ wish  _ Umbridge was the one punishing you. Do you both understand me?” He spoke to them both, but his eyes only lingered on Alicia. “This is not a joke. Aside from the boggarts, there are centaurs and something making a loud, very suspicious noise in that forest. This is no time for petty arguments.”

As they walked on the grounds, Alicia said, “Umbridge won’t let us practise actual spells, and yet she wants us to go tackle a boggart or three? This is a death mission because of the DA, and she knows we’re the most likely two to get in trouble!”

Harley arched her eyebrows. “Huh. We actually agree on something.” The two girls followed Snape but the second they reached the forest, a dark, cold feeling settled over all of them.

“Professor?” Harley’s voice was already wavering. This was no boggart.

“Go back to the castle,” Snape said. “Both of you,  _ right now _ !” He stepped in front of them, taking his wand from his pocket.

Harley had been about to say she would stay, but paused. She could not defeat a Dementor, because she was unable to produce a Patronus. “I cannot leave you to contend with them alone, sir,” she said.

Alicia scoffed. “What help would you be? You can’t cast a Patronus. Another sign you’re a Dark witch.”

“Spinnet, this is not the time or the place to be acting like a smug little child. Ten points from Gryffindor, and one more crack like that it will be detention with me from now till term ends, do you hear me?” Snape asked. “You both need to go back to the castle. This is too dangerous for you.”

“You-Know-Who is back: isn’t that danger enough to be in, especially for Muggle-borns like me?” Alicia said. “I’m not running away.”

“Nor am I,” Harley said.

“Stubborn Gryffindors,” Snape muttered. “Fine. Wands at the ready, both of you.” Leading them into the forest, they could all see the Dementors clearer. There were two of them, fluttering just inside the trees.

“Perhaps I am being paranoid, but is it not a bit odd for Dementors to be right here? Wouldn’t they be better off in areas where Death Eaters have been spotted than at a supposedly safe school?” Harley asked. “You know, where there’s a lot more fear to feed on?”

“Astute as always,” Snape commented. “They--get down!”

The Dementors swooped across their heads, narrowly missing the three of them. They seemed to be more intent on Severus, and Harley thought it was easy to guess why. Lord knows what he had seen in his life. The first one dived straight for him, faster than he was, knocking him to the ground.

The second swooped over the girls and Harley could hear her own worst memory...something from deep within her mind, that her subconscious held onto.

_ Screams. It was her mother, shouting at someone to spare her son. Someone with a serpentine voice telling her mother to move aside. She refused. A spell. One last cry from her mother, and then her baby brother began screaming. She heard a high, cold laugh before there was nothing but Harry’s cries. _

_ Footsteps. She was terrified, what had happened? Why couldn’t she hear her mum any longer? Was she hurt? Was the laughing man coming back to hurt Harley, too? No, this was a different voice, deeper and smoother. She heard new cries, cries that made her cry, too. _

_ She heard her mother’s name over and over, “Lily...oh, Lily, no…” She was crying with the man, feeling what he felt somehow. She wished he would hear her and come to get her. More voices, and then the man who had been crying left, leaving her awash in fresh tears. Why did he leave her? Why did he not take her with him? Why did he leave her all alone? _

A strong voice broke through Harley’s nightmare. “ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” Harley saw a bright silver doe dash at the Dementor above her and Alicia, chasing it away.

She could not stand up. She was cold, shaking, and crying, though she was better off than Alicia, who was in the foetal position, whimpering. Harley heard Snape call her name, but his voice was cut off in a yell as the other Dementor came at him again.

Harley saw with horror that it was going to Kiss him, to steal his soul. “No! Professor!” she cried. This was her only chance to save him, but how could she conjure up good memories when she felt like she’d never be happy again?

She thought about the few times she had been happy, and most of those times involved the professor. The meanest man, Neville’s biggest fear, the bane of Harry’s existence, yet he treated her kinder than anyone had, save Fred, of course. He had given her encouragement, praise, wisdom, and so much more.

How could she sit there and let his soul--his bright, good soul, despite what others believed--be destroyed, consumed by this monster?

“Not on my watch, you bastard,” she panted. “ _ Expecto Patronum _ !” From her wand, a burst of bright light came forth, taking the shape of her Patronus: a large bat, which swooped over the professor, straight at the Dementor.

She heard it screech, and it was gone. She did it: she cast a Patronus! Swaying on her knees, trying to stand, she saw the professor getting to his feet, also very unsteady. She felt chilled to the bone, and very weepy, much like her three-year-old self had been.

Snape came behind Harley, an arm protectively around her, steadying them both. He was shaking worse than she was. “It’s all right. It’s all right, I’m here.”

Turning to see if Alicia had gotten up, Harley saw that another Dementor was heading their way. How many were out there? Alicia was still on the ground, crying, and the Dementor went straight for her, her fear and anguish as delectable to it as a raw steak was to Fang, Hagrid’s dog. The girl was incoherent, stuck in her dark memory, and unable to save herself.

Unable to bring up any good memories featuring her longtime tormentor, Harley tried to hold onto her thoughts about the professor as she sent her Patronus out the second time, to save the life of the girl she had wished dead many times over.

When it looked like the coast was clear, Harley helped Snape pick Alicia up and get her to walk to the castle. She was still weeping lightly, but at least they didn’t have to carry her.

“Harley, there’s a cauldron of your cocoa potion in my office. Please bring a flask of it to Madam Pomfrey’s for Miss Spinnet.”

Harley nodded and went to go, but Snape grabbed her arm.

“Are you all right?” His dark eyes searched her face, but she was as impassive as he was, all signs of her earlier tears gone.

“I will be, sir,” she said, and went to go get her potion to give to Alicia. Once she’d brought it to the infirmary, Snape told her to meet him back in his office as he walked away.

Pomfrey fussed over Alicia, ignoring Harley as much as she could, as if Harley hadn’t also been attacked by Dementors.

Once the nurse left, Alicia turned her haunted hazel eyes to Harley. “You saved my life.”

“Yes, I did.” No need to demur. What happened had happened.

“I thought you hated me. I thought...people like you couldn’t produce a Patronus.”

“I do hate you. I just didn’t think that a Dementor deserved to eat something as rotten as your soul,” Harley snapped, gathering her dirty cloak and leaving the room without having Pomfrey check her over.

Snape was waiting for her in his office, and she was glad he had thought to brew more of her potion as she drank a flask of it. The professor had already drained his, but he still looked shaken. She assumed that she did as well.

“You did excellently tonight, Harley. I am very impressed with you, and I am also in your debt,” Snape said.

Harley shook her head. “No, sir, you’re not. Your Patronus saved me, and I could not sit there and let that thing hurt you. You were right: when someone I cared about was in need, my Patronus showed itself. Now, sir, what are we going to do about Umbridge? First Dementors attack my brother and cousin, and now this. Am I wrong to think that there is something going on here?”

Snape sighed, hand tightening on the flask he held. “Harley, I told you my post here has something to do with the Order. I cannot get on that woman’s bad side, lest I risk my position, and Dumbledore would kill me. Yes, she is most likely behind it, but there is nothing we can do at the moment.”

Harley nodded. She understood, especially after seeing what had happened with McGonagall, Dumbledore, Trelawney, and Hagrid.

“Go get some rest, please. I do not know what you saw, but I know how badly those things make you feel. Your last NEWT test is tomorrow, don’t forget, right before the fifth years take their OWLs. You need your strength.” He held the office door open for her and she wished him a goodnight.


	26. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Harry and his friends go off to the Department Of Mysteries, they leave Harley and Professor Snape to gather the Order to find them. The prophecy about Harry forces Severus to confess a painful truth to Harley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted to know exactly what Snape did to alert the Order and help Harry when he ran off like an idiot because of Voldemort's fake vision. I hope you all like it! xoxo

Harley did not feel much better the next day, but part of that was nerves. For once, she and her little brother could agree on one thing: these tests were terrifying. While she dressed, she saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione cracking the books for the last time before their tests.

“Good luck, Harley,” Hermione said.

“Thanks. I’d wish you good luck but, to be honest, I think you could take your NEWTs now and pass,” Harley replied as she went to join the other seventh years in the Great Hall. Taking her seat, she saw that there were written tests first, and then applied exams afterwards. The written tests were very simple, in theory. She remembered to use her own words, not copy from the books, and add extra credit information when she could recall it.

She wrote so fast ink splattered her cheek and her face was inches away from the paper. She would be mortified if she failed her NEWTs, absolutely mortified. Most students worried about their parents being disappointed in them if they failed: the person whose disappointment she wanted to avoid was her professor.

The physical powers tests were next, and she knew she impressed the official testing her when she told him about her own potions, and again with her Charms skills. She had been most concerned with her Transfiguration test, but it seemed that she passed that as well, after only having a little trouble conjuring up a chair from thin air.

As she left the hall, she saw the concerned fifth years lined up. Poor Potter was literally shaking, and near the back of the line, Malfoy didn’t look much better. More than anything else, the exams they were all taking were detrimental to what they would do with the rest of their lives. It wasn’t as if Potter could make a living being The Boy Who Lived, could he? And Malfoy’s father was a known perfectionist. Harley could imagine what would happen to Draco if he failed these tests.

While she sat in the library with a few other students, Madam Pince told them that a student had fainted while taking their exams.

“Probably Hermione. Poor girl looked ghastly this morning, didn’t she?” Angelina commented.

Harley privately agreed, though she hoped not. Out of the three, she liked Hermione the best and thought that the girl was actually going places with her life. It wasn’t till an hour later, when she was going back to her dorm, that she saw Snape dashing past her.

Not stopping, he hissed, “ _ My office _ .”

Harley was confused but waited there for him for twenty minutes. When he finally came in, he was in a fury.

“Padfoot: that is what they call Sirius Black, correct?” He asked her.

“Yeah, that or Snuffles,” Harley replied. “What happened, sir?”

“Your brother happened. He had a vision Black was being tortured and tried to use Umbridge’s office Floo again, the fool! He has been caught. Nothing I can do about that, but he claims that they have Black ‘where the thing is being kept’. What thing? The one I tried to get him to hide via Occlumency?” Snape asked.

The thing? Harley paused, trying to think. “Oh! Yes, you mean Harry’s visions from the Dark Lord. He says he walks down a long hall at the Ministry, where something the Dark Lord wants is being hidden. He told us about it, and Ron called that place the Department of Mysteries. Do you...do you think he’s there now? That he’s gotten what he is looking for? Or made Sirius get it?”

“One way to find out.” To her surprise, the professor sat on the floor before the fireplace, and peeked up the chimney, as if something was stuck there. He tossed Floo Powder down and said, “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!”

Harley was only able to hear one side of his hurried conversation.

“Black! Sirius Black, if you are there, get over here  _ immediately _ ! ...Lupin. Is Black there? ...I thought as much! The bloody idiot. Potter had a vision that was false, and he saw the Dark Lord torturing Black in the Department of Mysteries. ...Yes, now: that was him. Umbridge caught him. That was who Kreacher was speaking with a few minutes ago. What did Kreacher tell him? ...Well, use Floo to tell me once Black gets it out of him so we can take action.”

He pulled his head from the fire and leaned with his back against the side of the desk. “That boy is more trouble than he’s worth.”

“Let me guess, Sirius is at his home?” Harley said, her heart sinking when Snape nodded. She sighed, leaning against the chair. Harry was about to be expelled for nothing, all because he never bothered to learn Occlumency. He hadn’t needed Snape, he could have practised on his own, but had been too stubborn.

A few minutes went by and the fire in the grate began to move and morph, turning into Sirius Black’s face. “Yoo-hoo, Snape, you there?”

“What is it?” he snapped.

“Kreacher told Harry I wasn’t home. He lied, and I think Harry believed him,” Sirius said. “Is he with you? Remus said he was caught by Umbridge.”

“Damn it all! Harley, can you go get him? Make sure he knows Sirius is safe; I do not care what lie you need to tell,” Snape said.

Harley nodded and raced upstairs, where she found Madam Pomfrey tending to Malfoy and his cronies, while Professor Umbridge sat unconscious on another bed. The only person who could cause that much damage in an hour is Harry James Potter.

Harley dashed back to the dungeons and told Snape and Black what she had just seen. “He left, and I do not think he was alone.”

“Why not? He has not made my life difficult enough as it is, apparently. Black, tell Lupin what we just heard. Stay where you are. You cannot go anywhere near the Ministry without going straight back to Azkaban. Let him know I am already contacting the rest of the Order,” Snape said, hurrying to his desk and getting parchment from a drawer.

Sirius’s face disappeared from the fire and Harley said, “What can I do, sir?”

“Stay here. If you, a seventh year with little public involvement with Potter, shows up to rescue him, the Death Eaters will wonder why. Thus far, we have succeeded in keeping your relation to him a secret. We cannot blow that now, or else they might see fit to use  _ you  _ as bait next time,” Snape said, making multiple Duplicates of the same parchment in a second. “Here. Send separate owls for each. I cannot go myself, as they think I am one of them still. Hopefully we are not too late to help him and those who went with him. Once you’ve sent those, see who else went with him besides Granger and Weasley.”

Harley nodded, relieved to be doing something useful. After going to the owlery, she went to the Gryffindor common room, checking who else was missing. Most students were there, or in the front hall, gossiping about what had happened to Umbridge.

Finally, she found someone who could give her information: Colin Creevey, the fourth year boy who was not only obsessed with Harry, but absolutely terrified of her ever since she cursed his camera in her fifth year to shock him every time he took a picture.

“Here, now,” she ordered. He walked over to her, fearful. “Which Gryffindors are missing from this scene aside from Potter, Ron Weasley, and Granger?”

“Um, uh, Ginny W-Weasley and Neville Longbottom. They went and I s-saw them follow Harry into the forest. And Loony Lovegood went with them, you know, the weird g-girl from Ravenclaw,” he stammered.

“First of all, don’t call anyone names. Next time I hear you call her ‘Loony,’ I’ll do more than curse your camera,” Harley snapped, turning on her heel to go back to the dungeon.

As soon as she walked into the room Snape said, “Most of the Order is on their way there or there already. Who else went with him?”

“The whole bloody school for all it’s worth,” Harley said. “Ginny, Lovegood, and Longbottom are with the three of them. I swear, if he gets any of them injured because he could not make the attempt to grasp Occlumency, I will kill him myself, not the Dark Lord.” She flung herself into the chair opposite the desk. “Is there nothing more I can do?”

Snape shook his head again. “As I said, I cannot go, as that will give away my undercover role. I will not send you into the lion’s den, brother or not. You did what you could, and helped me do my job in a very timely manner. With a little bit of luck, and a lot of skill from the Order, we will get out of this with minimal casualties.”

“This was not how I planned my last days here to end,” Harley commented.

Snape was silent, looking over papers. After a few minutes he said, “You deserve to know the truth. What the Dark Lord wants in the Department of Mysteries. I am willing to tell you, though I admit it will cloud your judgment of me, and I would rather that not happen.”

Harley smirked. “You were a Death Eater. Not much else can be said that would make me think differently of you. The crimes of your past you not only own, but have atoned for in my eyes, sir. But I do want to know what the Dark Lord is looking for all the same.”

She watched Snape’s face, the face so many saw as impassive, and noticed the subtleties everyone missed. It was amazing to think that the brilliant man she looked up to was worried about what she would think of him.

“I did not have an easy childhood, and I did not have an easy time here at Hogwarts, either. By my fifth year, it felt like I lost the one good thing I did have. So I got further and deeper into the Death Eaters...because a Muggle-born broke my heart. I am not making excuses. What I did was reprehensible. I am just trying to make you understand my mindset when I was twenty-one.

“I was at the Hog’s Head, for no reason other than I wanted a place to stay for the night, and they are less conspicuous than The Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron. I happened to overhear a prophecy pertaining to a child born in the seventh month of the previous year to parents who had already defied the Dark Lord. The seeress claimed, from what I heard, that this child could be a danger to the Dark Lord. So I, as a good Death Eater, relayed the portion of the prophecy that I heard to him.” Snape paused and glanced at Harley, waiting for her to make the connection.

“The prophecy meant Harry, didn’t it?” Harley asked, her voice hushed.

“I did not know who it meant at the time, but it was not necessarily going to be Harry, anyway. There were two children born in July to parents who had openly defied the Dark Lord. The other parents were Aurors, and much more active in the Order than the Potters were, so naturally I assumed it would be their child he would target. Neville’s parents. The Dark Lord got them anyway, through Bellatrix. The Dark Lord chose the Potters, he chose Harry.

“It was then, when I realised what I’d done, that I tried to warn them, but I was too late. Dumbledore had promised to keep them safe, but he failed to stop Pettigrew from giving up their secret. I had no idea the idiot was even a Death Eater; I had thought it was Sirius like everyone else. When I got to Godric’s Hollow, trying to stop the Dark Lord...” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. He had gotten there too late. “I renounced being a Death Eater, but not publicly. Dumbledore knew he could use me, and use my guilt, and I was happy to be used, if it meant I could get revenge for Lily’s death, and for the damage I caused. I am sorry, Harley: it is my fault that your mother is dead.”

Harley was silent, processing everything. Snape thought he was the reason her mother was dead, but he did not know how wrong he was. “Sir, you did not cause that damage. Peter Pettigrew caused it, the Dark Lord caused it, but you did not cause it. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else who found out about the prophecy. Things like that never stay secrets for long. And as you said, Harry was not his only choice. I know you blame yourself, but you should not. It was a chain of events, and you were but one small link. Without you, that chain would have been broken, but still functional.”

Snape scoffed. “I do not understand how you still manage to see the good in me, after everything I just said.”

She shrugged, and subtly changed the subject. “When the Dementor attacked, my worst memory was one I did not even know I remembered. I heard my mother getting killed, and then I heard someone else, someone I  _ thought  _ I did not know. Crying, apologising, calling to my mum. That was you, I know that now. No one who could cry like that can be a bad person. Truly bad people never feel loss or remorse.”

“I suppose that is true. Albus has certainly said that many times.” Snape stood. “You should be getting back to your common room. If I need you, I know where to look. Thank you, you did a good job.”

She smirked again. “Told you I am cut out for the Order. And Professor? Thank you for protecting my brother. I saw the cauldron of fake Veritaserum weeks ago. You gave it to Umbridge, didn't you?”

He nodded. “And tonight she asked me for more, to drug Potter again. I told her I had none, and am now on probation.” He smiled wryly. “Though I did offer to poison him.”

Harley laughed. “I appreciate all that you have done, sir. You have risked yourself many times for my family.”

Back in the common room, Harley busied herself packing early for the journey home. She was to have her own place, the flat above her shop, and Fred had promised to come and help her set it up and make it more homey. It was a thought to keep her mind off of the fact that, although six students had left Hogwarts, less might be returning.

Late that night, she found out just who it was who was not returning when Hermione came back from Madam Pomfrey’s room. Neville and Luna were hurt, Ron had some odd spell put on him, and Harry was in a conference with Dumbledore, who was reinstated as Hogwarts headmaster since the Ministry had no choice but to accept Voldemort’s return as fact.

The common room was deserted because it was so late, so it was just Harley and Hermione at the moment, and the young witch was in tears.

“Sirius...Sirius died,” she gasped. “I know you didn’t like him, and he had his faults, but…” She trailed off, her tears coming more. “It was Bellatrix, that witch we heard about. His own cousin! She hit him with a Stunning Spell and he fell into the veil.”

Harley was not good with comfort, but she held Hermione’s hand while she dried her tears. Sirius Black was dead. Harley had never liked him, and he had never liked her, but she had not thought he deserved to fall into the veil. That was not an easy death by any means, to have your soul forcefully wrenched from your body. It was like a slow motion Dementor’s Kiss before you felt your body disintegrate.

The common room gradually filled with the small group, and even Luna snuck in, though she was giving comfort instead of seeking it. Harley was not a person who saw much good in others, but she thought Luna was a wonderful, sweet, unique person. She’d been badly injured, seen atrocities, and yet she snuck into another House’s common room to give comfort.

“You’re probably glad,” Harry accused Harley.

“I am not glad for the loss of life, the loss of an ally,” she said, controlling her temper. Harry was hurt, and he needed someone to take his anguish out on. She was a convenient target. “Harry, Sirius did not die in vain. He was a war casualty, and more will surely follow. It is up to us to make sure that no death is in vain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for killing Sirius. I could never change his fate.


	27. The Potion Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley's graduation and subsequent opening of her shop in Hogsmeade.

Despite the dark cloud hanging over everyone, the next week was the seventh years’ graduation ceremony after the Leaving Feast. Severus Snape woke up and went to assist the other professors in setting up the Great Hall with a feeling in his chest he had never had in all his years as a professor, because he had never been close to any of the students who would now be leaving the school forever.

He had heard people talking about how hard it was to watch their children graduating from school, but he had thought it was just hyperbole. Now he knew it was not. He had met Harley when she was an uncertain fourteen year old girl, and now she was leaving grown up, a woman, a powerful witch. And she was also the Wizarding equivalent of the valedictorian, the student with the highest scores in every class.

Usually the younger students did not stay for the ceremony, but this year nearly all of them did, out of a sense of unity he had never seen the school have. He stood at the front of the room with the others, listening to Dumbledore congratulate the students, and he saw the small seventh year class sitting near the front of the Hall, Harley the only one looking wholly unruffled. At the back of the room, he spied the Weasley twins, who had obviously come back to see Harley leave school. It was a good thing for her to have someone that loved her like Fred did. He hoped she wouldn’t muck it all up like he had with Lily.

“And now, I would like to present you with our Outstanding Student of this year’s graduating class, Miss Harley Torrance!” Dumbledore stepped aside and Severus watched his daughter stride up to the front, a rehearsed speech before her. Fred gave a wolf whistle from the back of the room, and that caused her stoic face to change, smiling as brightly as her mother had.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harley said. “And settle down, Fred--I’m still Head Girl for another hour!” The students laughed. “I came to Hogwarts late, as many of you know, having had my magical past accidentally hidden from me. Upon discovering my heritage, I discovered so many things, not just about this world, but about myself.

“I am an outcast. In the Muggle world and in the Wizarding one as well. As an outcast, I have been able to observe quietly, see things many other people miss. And I have seen this world divided. Now, more than ever, the Dark Lord is trying to split us into two. And as a true member now of the Wizarding community, I want to plead with all my fellow students to stop this pettishness. It is time to stand together, use our extraordinary gifts to make a better world for our kind.

“We have all come so far. There was a time I considered leaving Hogwarts because of bullying and feeling very out of place, but I stuck through it. I watched my classmates grow and mature. I learned more in my four years here than I ever will in the rest of my life. I had the most amazing professors guiding me, and some wonderful people--friends  _ and  _ enemies--pushing me to do better.

“As we leave for the holiday, some of us forever, I want to remind you all that we can make a difference in our world. If I, a strange, half-blood orphan girl who was raised by Muggles, can come so far, I can only imagine what all of you can do. Thank you.”

The Hall erupted in applause, and Severus had to fight to keep his expression neutral. He felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Minerva standing by his side.

“You raised a great girl, Severus,” she whispered.

“I did not raise her,” he said.

“Yes, you did. These past years, it was you who guided her, taught her. She has changed so much because of you, you should be very proud of the job you did,” she told him warmly.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he watched the procession of students receiving their Wizarding certificates from Albus, and then shaking the hands of their Head of House.

Harley received a warm hug from Minerva, and then did not leave the Hall. Instead, she walked up to Severus and surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck once again and he hugged her back, his eyes betraying how he felt about all of this.

“Congratulations,” he said. “I am very proud of you.”

He watched her walk away, right into the arms of Fred Weasley, who kissed her heartily and spun her around before taking her out of the Hall, and out of Hogwarts for the last time.

 

****

 

As the students filed out of Hogwarts the next day, most of them headed for the carriages to take them to Hogwarts Express. A select few, like Harley, did not board the train, choosing their own way instead. Her way included riding behind Fred on his broom, while George took her luggage on his broom, pretending to struggle under the weight of all her books.

“Did I see what I thought I saw?” Fred asked. “You hugged  _ Snape _ ? I didn’t think he was capable of physical contact except for smacking our brothers on the head!”

Harley laughed, surprised she was even capable of it after everything that had gone on. She boarded Fred’s broom and they flew off to Hogsmeade, the little town bright and happy, despite the dangers that loomed.

They stopped outside the now empty building that Harley owned, and she felt electricity in her veins as she took her key out for the first time. This was it. This was the moment she had been planning for two years. Taking a breath, she unlocked the door and the three of them walked into the partly empty shop. Pippin had left Harley some things for a small fee, cauldrons and flasks, bottles and cases, for her to sell.

The place looked empty despite the things on the shelves. Pippin had never made the place pretty or inviting. Even her organisation skills had been lacking. Had Harley not been a witch, this would have been a long and arduous task, to decorate the shop and make it her own. Luckily, she was a talented witch and had two excellent wizards by her side.

“I want to put my things upstairs and I will be back down here in a moment.” Harley sent her cases ahead of her up the stairs, leaving them in her sitting room. The place was furnished, it was just a matter of decorating it.

Back downstairs, she saw that the twins were already hard at work organising her shelves. She had orders for more things coming in, but what she wanted people to shop there for were rare ingredients (she silently apologised to the herb shop down the way) and her potions. Felix Felicis (which would cost an arm and a leg, if she was being honest), Tenebris Exilium, a version of it that would not contain chocolate and hopefully cure anxiety before stressful days, and also many medicinal potions, the recipes for which Snape had given her over the course of her student days at Hogwarts.

She would also make some potions for Fred and George to sell at their shop: an ageing potion, her snakeskin potion (now able to be made without hair and give the drinker scales or fur from various animals), and a potion called Alihotsy, which causes hysteria in the drinker. She reconfigured the dosage so that the effects only lasted half an hour.

Harley wanted to use her talents, and she would also advertise that she would make any potion custom as long as it was not dangerous. It would be constant stimulation for her mind, and give her time to work with the Order, as well as come up with more custom elixirs.

Looking at the bright orange walls, Harley held out her wand and said, “ _Recensere_ _pingere nigrum_.” The walls changed to a shiny black that would reflect the candlelight nicely. “ _Evoco lace nigrum._ ” She conjured up a pile of black lace to drape over the shelves and give them a more festive look.

“McGonagall would be soiling herself if she saw you doing all this,” Fred commented.

“Thanks for that mental image,” Harley said, rolling her eyes. She moved some of Pippin’s candelabras around to give the room better light and lit them using the lumos spell. She had trinkets and things to make the place look more inviting that she would pick up. They’d been holding them for her at a different store in the town.

“So, how does it feel to be a big businesswoman?” Fred asked, throwing his arm around her and pulling her close.

“It does not feel real yet,” she commented, snuggling up to him.

“So, what are you going to call this place?” George asked.

“Oh, you’ll see. Grand opening is one week from today, and I am sending invitations out via owl post. If you’re not there, I’ll hex you both.”

George left for the night, but Fred stayed to help her fix her flat and “christen” it.

Harley sent out invitations that next morning, hoping that if McGonagall nor Snape were not in residence at Hogwarts over the summer, then Dumbledore could be trusted to get their invitations to them.

She added a note to Snape’s. “ _ Professor, I understand that you, like me, shirk social gatherings, but you are the main reason I am even able to open this store, and I would be honoured if you would come to my first day. It would mean quite a lot, sir _ .”

The hours before the opening, Harley Apparated to a place she had never been before: her aunt and uncle’s house in Surrey, so close to where she herself and grown up. Straightening her cloak and hoping she looked menacing enough to frighten the life out of the Dursleys, she rang the doorbell.

A tall thin woman with a severe looking expression answered it. She glared at Harley as if she were a bug.

“Yes? Can I help you?” She asked.

“Hello, Aunt Petunia. I’m Harley, Harry’s elder sister. Perhaps you conveniently forgot about me, even though I know you must have wondered about me a little, when my mum died and Harry was left to you, but not me. How do you do?”

Watching the horror fill that haughty face was worth all the Galleons in her vault.

“Oh--oh my…”

“Save it. I am here to pick up my brother, who will be returning this evening via the Floo Network. Keep your fireplace clear.” Petunia just stood there, mouth hanging open like a cod fish. “Well? Go get my brother.”

When she still just stood in the doorway, apparently shocked that Harley was alive, Harley gently pushed past her and walked into the pristine Muggle house.

“Harry? Harry?” She called up the stairs. She heard a noise and turned to see a large teenage boy looking at her in her black cloak and dress quizzically. “What are you looking at, Muggle? Turn around.  _ Wingardium leviosa _ !” With a flick of her wand, Dudley was sent swirling across the living room, only stopping when he whacked his head against the far wall, rattling the painting on it.

“What’s happening?” Harry cried, running down the stairs in panic. He paused when he saw Harley, a stark black pillar in the middle of the bright living room. “Is everything okay?”

She smiled. “Of course. I just needed to teach our cousin that staring is not polite. Come, I’m taking you to my shop’s grand opening. It’s in half an hour, so we need to hurry. I told your aunt you will be returning this evening via Floo Network. If any of these Muggles give you a hard time, just owl me. I will settle them in a trice.”

“Wait, you can’t do magi in front of Muggles,” Harry said, momentarily horrified.

“Yes, you can in front of them, because they are related to magical people. They already know all about it.”

Harry smiled widely, the first time he had done so for Harley, around whom he was always strangely guarded. He ran back to his room and returned wearing his Gryffindor robe and carrying his wand. “Let’s go!”

She led him to the fireplace, gripped his arm, and dropping some powder, she shouted, “Home!” The last thing they both saw was the identical faces of Petunia and Dudley watching in awe and fury.

They fell out of Harley’s fireplace in her flat, and she heard Fred give a yell. “Bloody Hell, give a bloke some warning, Harley!”

“Apologies,” she said, dusting her cloak off. “Is anyone else here?”

“The whole Weasley clan is here, waiting at the pub,” he said, kissing her hello. “Hermione and Neville came with us, and Luna is there, too. Did you invite her?”

Harley nodded. “She’s a sweet girl. Is Lee here?”

“He’ll be here. How are ya, Harry?” Fred asked.

“Dizzy, but I’m fine.” Harry was wiping his glasses clean. “Harley threw my cousin across the room.”

“I levitated him, there’s a difference,” she said.

“Won’t that get you in trouble for doing magic in front of Muggles?” George asked.

“No, because they are the legal guardians of a wizard. So magic in front of them is perfectly legal...including their fat-arsed brat.”

“The same one Hagrid gave a pig’s tail and we gave those Ton-Tongue Toffees to?” Fred asked, eyes alight.

Harley laughed. “Wow, what I would not give to have seen either of those incidents. Come on, I want to see who else arrived.”

When they walked a few shops down, they saw that everyone previously mentioned, plus Fleur Delacour (Bill’s fiancee), Remus, Tonks, and Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Sprout.

“Dumbledore sends his regrets that he is out of the country at the moment,” McGonagall said. “He also wants me to tell you congratulations on his behalf, and that Hogwarts will only order supplies from your shop.”

“Thank you. Well, I suppose we should be going,” Harley said, suddenly nervous. Fred gripped her hand tightly and walked alongside her as she led them to her shop. The shades were closed, and there was a black tarp above the sign.

She had prepared a speech for the unveiling of the name, but it felt like her throat was constricting and she looked at Fred for help.

He cleared his throat, about to buy her some time to gather her wits. “Ladies, gentlemen, and you Ron,--”

“ _ Hey _ !”

“--welcome to the unveiling and grand opening of our own Harley Torrance’s specialty potions shop! We have known her for years, and now it is time for her to let her talents shine as she gives us the best brews the Wizarding World has ever seen! Harley? Want to tell everyone where they will be shopping for their everyday potion needs?”

She smiled, blushing. Raising her wand she said, “I wanted to name the store in honour of the person who not only inspired me, but without whose help I never would have had this property. I present to you Hogsmeade’s new and improved potions shop: The Potion Master!” She flicked her wand and the tarp fell away, revealing the words in spiky calligraphy on the black awning above the front door.

The crowd clapped, but she saw different expressions on many faces, including disappointment on Remus’s, confusion on Harry’s, and utter incredulity on her professor’s usually calm face.

She unlocked the doors and led everyone inside her darkly beautiful shop, decorated similarly to her old basement with black drapings, candles, and odd things displayed in jars and baskets. She saw Neville wrinkle his nose at the pickled frogs in one jar, only to turn and be faced with a jar of fish eyes.

Everyone found something to exclaim about, even Remus, whose face had been sour when she revealed the name of the shop. “Your mother would be so proud: she was great at Potions too, you know.”

Harley had a framed photo of her and her mother on the wall behind the register, and she saw Snape stand before it for a moment, and then glance over at the other photo, which was one taken by poor little Colin Creevy: the NEWT Potions students, taken on the first day of class. Harley and Snape were the only two not smiling.

Fred and George were going around, pouring glasses of elven-made wine (which they had splurged on for the opening) and Fred blew a whistle from the end of his wand. “I’d like to propose a toast: to Harley Torrance, who, amidst a brewing war, managed to make her own way in this world, on nothing but her talent and good looks! To Harley, love of my life, may this be the start of a wonderful career and Wizarding life!”

The room raised their glasses to her, and she felt her face burning with embarrassment as she kissed Fred.

“I--I also wish to propose a toast,” she said, her voice quiet. “To the man who pushed me, taught me, inspired me, and believed in me even when I thought I was nothing. Without you, I would not be standing here today. To Severus Snape.”

The professor smiled at her from the back of the group as she raised her glass to him, along with the rest of the room, though many of them did not look at all happy to toast to him, least of all Neville, who had avoided him at great lengths when not in class.

The small party went on for a bit of time, including a reveal of the few products from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes that she would be stocking, and vice versa. She gave gifts to every person who had come, things she brewed or picked out specially for them.

When everyone left, Remus and Snape stayed behind.

“Were you serious all the times you told this one that you wanted to be a member of the Order?” Remus asked, gesturing to Snape.

“Yes, I was and am,” she replied.

The two men glanced at each other and Remus continued, “We cannot stop you from joining, so let us welcome you as our newest member.”

Severus held his hand out, oddly solemn considering the occasion. “Your wand.”

“My wand?” Harley asked.

“Yes, to join the Order you must make a vow on your wand,” Severus said.

She held her wand out and both Severus and Remus held theirs out, touching hers. She saw Remus nod to Severus, as if to say,  _ Go ahead _ .

As Severus began to speak, dark tones seeming to echo in the silence of the shop, Harley saw magic begin to wave around all three of their wand tips, interweaving together.

“Do you vow to protect the Wizarding World from the Dark?”

“Yes.”

“Do you promise on your wand to do what is necessary to keep the Dark Lord from rising to power again? And fight back any Dark plague that may come after him?”

“Yes.”

“And last, do you vow loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Yes.”

The magic moved faster, until all three strands of it rose high in the air, exploding in celebratory sparks. Remus’s blue, hers and Severus’s red.

“Welcome,” Remus told her.

“Thank you. Anything I can do, just tell me,” she said.

“Dumbledore gave me...instructions for you,” Snape said, handing her a scrap of parchment. “Can you meet me at this address when the shop closes tomorrow evening? I will tell you everything then.”

Harley glanced at the paper and saw the same town where she had gone searching for her father, and had run into the professor. “Certainly, sir. ...Thank you both for coming today.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Remus said, patting her shoulder. “See you soon, kid.”

“Till tomorrow, Harley. By the way, this is a wonderful shop. You’d never know an incompetent dunderhead owned it last.” Snape nodded to her and followed Remus from the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't WAIT for next week: you guys will love what happens! (At least...I hope you will!)


	28. Snape's Best Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley arrives to meet Severus for more information on her part in the Order Of The Phoenix, but there are other conditions the Potion Master needs to meet before they can move forward.

Harley’s first day was surprisingly busy. Apparently there had been a true lack of a decent potioneer in Hogsmeade, and everyone needed something, usually medicinal potions that Harley was happy to provide.

Before she knew it, she was flipping the sign to ‘closed’ and was changing into her cloak to go and visit Professor Snape. She had absolutely no idea was she was in for, or what Dumbledore wanted her to do for the Order, but she was ready to do whatever was necessary to defeat the Dark Lord.

She checked the address he had written down and then Apparated to the designated destination. She ended up outside a worn brick house in a thicket of trees, near a slightly polluted river and abandoned playground. The whole area looked fairly deserted, even the other homes.

Walking up to the door, she knocked quietly and waited till she heard footsteps on the other side.

Snape opened the door and said, “You’re early. Come in.” She was sure it was not her imagination that the unflappable professor looked extremely nervous.

She walked into the dark foyer and then the living room, which was filled with wall-to-wall books. What didn’t fit on the shelves were stacked in a slightly haphazard manner on the floor. By contrast, there was a very neat desk in one corner of the room. There was very worn but comfortable furniture, and a roaring fireplace that seemed to be fueled by magic and old issues of the  _ Daily Prophet _ .

“Well, books and darkness: you do know how to make a girl feel at home, sir,” she said, removing her cloak.

He did not respond. Indeed, he looked as if he were lost in his own mind. “Please sit down. I have much to tell you, and none of it will be easy for either of us.”

Now she was worried as she sat on the edge of a sofa and the professor sat on the other side of it.

“Albus gave me certain...conditions once you had joined the Order. He wants you to work with me, undercover. We think we can use your shop to our advantage, if you agree.”

“Of course, sir. If you think I can keep up the pretenses you have already set, I am more than willing,” she said. “And I feel quite honoured that you consider me equal enough to you to work alongside you, sir.”

“You are  _ more  _ than my equal. One thing out of the way.” Snape sighed. “Now for the difficult part, the conditions set for me. Albus wants...no he  _ commanded  _ me to tell you who your real father is, and to be honest, I do not think I am capable of doing that without hurting you.”

Harley felt her heart leap. Even if it was bad news, that the man was back with the Death Eaters or was himself dead, anything was better than uncertainty, and she told him so.

He smirked. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing, little girl. You will recall, I did not tell you who your father was when you were fifteen for one simple reason: I did not think you would benefit from knowing him. I thought he would hurt you, steer you down the wrong path. I was partially wrong, and I admit it. However, I still do not think he is a good man. I do not think he is worthy enough to be your father. Now, it does not matter what I think: in order for you to fully trust me when we are undercover, Albus requires full disclosure between you and I.”

He turned to face her, dark eyes bright in the firelight. “You said in those journals your mother truly loved your father?”

Harley nodded. “Yes, sir. In her last entry, when she bought me the chemistry set you saw in the photo, she said how devastated she was that he had not come for her, and that he never met me. She said, and I quote, ‘I may have no choice but to settle for James, but my heart will never be his. The love potions have stopped working, because I know who my heart has always truly belonged to.’” Harley felt her voice get lower as she remembered the sad words she had memorised.

Snape was silent for a few moments. “Will you forgive me for not telling you this until I was forced to?”

“Yes, of course. You only thought you were doing what was best for me, were you not?” Harley said, and he nodded. “Then there is nothing to forgive, sir.”

“Wait here.” He left the room and came back with the Pensieve that was usually in Hogwarts, the one Harry had looked into with Dumbledore. “I cannot simply blurt it out. That is a skill mastered by idiots only. It would be easier to show you.”

Harley stepped up to the basin and hesitated for only a moment before she plunged into the odd, not exactly liquid of a memory.

When she landed, she thought there had been a mistake. She was still in Snape’s living room, but she saw subtle differences, like less books and more liquor bottles on the side table. Snape was a young man, barely out of Hogwarts himself, reclining on the sofa with a book in his lap and a glass of liquor in one hand. He looked forlorn, and was not even reading the book, but watching the fire crackle. There was a record playing a David Bowie album at low volume. The same song that came out of the music box she had bought him.

Harley jumped as bad as he did when a series of sharp knocks came at his front door. He got up and languidly walked to the door. Harley was too scared to follow him, to see if it was her father on the other side.

She heard severe sobbing coming from that direction, and watched in muted shock as Snape led a sobbing, young, beautiful Lily Potter into his living room, installing her on his couch as he went to get butterbeers and tissues.

The scene she had once read in her mother’s journal played out in front of her as Snape comforted her distraught mother, and they talked about love potions and their mutual dislike for James Potter.

When Snape led Lily to the foyer, Harley followed, needing to see, to be sure of what was going to happen next. Lily told him he was all she ever needed to be happy and she watched as her young professor grabbed her mother tightly and pulled her into a heated kiss.

The memory faded out, and Harley was ejected back into the present, falling back onto the sofa cushions. For that she was grateful, because she did not think she could stand on her own at the moment.

How had she not seen it? How had she not realised sooner? All the similarities, all the signs...how could she have missed them all? How? Well, it was simple: she could not have let herself believe in the fantasy that the man she had come to respect could actually be her father. She had wished it many times before, calling herself a fool for wishing. But if she had to choose someone to share a bloodline with, it would have been Severus Snape.

“Harley.” His voice broke through her stupor, and she felt him sit down next to her. Her  _ father _ . Right there, the entire time. Teaching her, guiding her. Raising her. She had absolutely no idea how to react to this revelation.

“Harley,” he repeated, a little more forcefully. “Are you okay?” His hand was on her back, and it was his touch that undid her from her shock. She should have been angry with him, but how could she? He had truly thought he was protecting her, like a good father should.

Turning, she threw herself into his arms, not bothering to control her sobs. But she was not sad, there was no words at all to describe the joy she felt at that very moment. Her father held her tightly, trying to calm her down.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “For what I did to Lily. For not knowing about you when you were a baby. For  _ everything _ .”

“Y-you don’t need to a-apologise for anything,” she said, gasping out the words. “Y-you do not k-know how many times I w-wished you were my father. You have no idea how h-happy I am right now.”

“Yes, I do know how happy you are, because so am I,” he said quietly, holding her until her tears stopped flowing. He then held her away from him and made her tears go away as he had before.

She looked at him as if with new eyes. Seeing herself in him, seeing what she should have seen many times over. Her skin, her hair, her eyes, and her very demeanour were genetic gifts from him, as was her mind.

“I never saw myself as a parent. But the second I knew you were my child, I changed. You are a blessing. No one could ask for a more beautiful, brilliant daughter.” He held her hands in his. “You are a part of the only person I ever loved, proof that she loved me just as much. Proof that even terrible men like me can produce something good. I wish I could have been a much better man, a different man. You deserve a better father than me.”

Harley shook her head. “No, no you’re wrong...Father.” She felt herself smile wider than she ever had as she said that word for the first time, and he returned it. “You are the best man I have ever known. I’m proud to be a Snape, proud to be your daughter.”

They sat there, taking it all in. After all these years of searching, she had found what she was looking for, and it was better than anything she had ever hoped for. She could not remember ever being this joyful. She thought about how soon she could change her name, when she could tell everyone. Not soon, because she would need to be undercover, and while the Death Eaters would know her as a Snape, she could not let many others know, except for Dumbledore and apparently Remus, who had told her straight out how terrible her real father was. She felt resentment towards him and McGonagall for their cruel words about him. And Sirius had better be thankful he was dead: if she could hex a ghost, she’d find a way to do so for his cruel words.

“Well, you met your conditions,” she said. “I think we should discuss getting rid of the Dark Lord before we attempt any father-daughter bonding, because it will do us no good if he rises to power.”

Severus chuckled, and he used his wand to send over two glasses of wine as he began to tell her Dumbledore’s idea. “Dumbledore is currently returning from a dangerous trip. I will be visiting him tomorrow. He was thinking that we could add on a back room to your shop, and you could pretend to sell Dark Arts artifacts and potions, like a backroom Borgin and Burke’s. They need something more than that one shop, because Burke is not trustworthy. However, the Dark Lord will trust my daughter if I tell him she is willing to help. You can gain intel none of us have that way.”

Harley nodded. “That will not be a problem. The whole of Hogwarts thought I was a Dark witch from the beginning, so apparently I will not have to do much acting.”

“After I go and see Dumbledore, I will tell the Dark Lord. If he agrees--and there is no reason he wouldn’t--I will assist you in adding on the room. I am sure we can get the required supplies easily.”

Harley nodded, thinking of potions to brew and herbs to stock. Curses she could come up with. That was the problem with combining a brilliant girl with Dark Arts: it presented nearly endless possibilities for creation.

“Do you close your store on Sundays?” he asked. Like many shops in the Muggle world, they liked to close their shops one day a week for rest.

“Yes, I planned on it,” she said.

“Good. Please stay here tonight, so you will be here the moment I return. Speed is essential for us now.” He stood up and stopped. “You know you are always welcome here. I know you’re an adult with a place of your own, but you will always have a home here, Harley.”

She watched him walk off, and leaned back onto the velvet cushions. It was hard to take everything in, she still felt as if she were dreaming. Now more than ever there was something worth fighting for: her family. For the first time, she pictured her future: married to Fred, perhaps a child or two of her own, playing in the same place her parents used to play in, and being taught by their grandfather at Hogwarts. Perhaps also playing with their cousins, her nieces or nephews, if Harry ever married.

She had grown up alone and lonely. Now she need never be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand it happened! I am so happy everyone stuck around to see this through.  
> There's so much more to come for Harley and Severus.
> 
> I posted a cut scene from earlier in this fic, if anyone wants to read it.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8375359


	29. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley begins her undercover work with the Death Eaters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be a parallel with what Severus went through when he was almost the same age. Enjoy!

Harley shared breakfast with her father before he left on his Order business, leaving her alone to peruse the books in the house, and the books in what had been his old bedroom, which was where Harley had slept.

She saw very few Muggle books, but one stuck out because he had mentioned it before:  _ Carrie _ , by Stephen King. The book about a witch who was bullied, so she killed her tormentors. It was one of Harley’s favourites.

Opening the book, a worn photograph fell out of the front. Harley picked it up and saw it was of her parents on their first day of Hogwarts: Severus already in his hand-me-down robes, and Lily, looking very uncertain even as she smiled.

There was an inscription inside the book. “ _ I think this is something you will relate to. Just don’t go getting any ideas, love! Lily _ .”

As she was looking at the book, she heard the distinctive  _ crack  _ of someone Apparating. She went back into the living room and saw her father standing there, an expression of intermingled horror and hate on his face.

“Father?” Harley was still getting used to that word on her tongue. “What happened?”

“Sit.” He leaned on the back of his armchair. “Dumbledore is dying.”

Harley shot up from the seat she had just taken. “ _ What _ ?”

“You will see him soon, at the next Order meeting. I can control the curse put on him, but it will take him eventually. I can only do so much against such an evil curse as this. He and I...came to an agreement upon his death. The Dark Lord wants him dead, that is obvious. Albus believes that he will make one of his Death Eaters do it, and he was right...partially.

“I went to his headquarters after I left Albus. He does indeed want someone to kill Albus: Draco Malfoy.”

Harley’s mouth dropped further. “How on Earth does he think  _ Draco  _ is capable of killing Dumbledore? That’s like asking a bumblebee to kill a hawk!”

“Punishment, for Lucius Malfoy’s failure and subsequent imprisonment,” Severus told her. “He knows Draco will fail, and the boy’s death will be punishment for the elder Malfoys. After that, the task will obviously fall to me, to ensure that it gets done.

“Albus has already asked me to kill him. Before you protest, he understands that his death might complicate things, but even that is necessary to the plan. If I kill him, it will be public. I will have no choice but to make everyone think I am a Death Eater, and not a true part of the Order. It is necessary for the Dark Lord to trust me, and I am well prepared for ostracisation from the Order. ...It is not as if they didn’t already want to get rid of me.”

Harley met his eyes and saw the resignation and determination there. Her protest was swallowed back, seeing as it would do no good to voice it. “I understand, and if I were you I would do it. That does not mean I am not hurt by the fact that people will think you are evil, when I know otherwise.”

He nodded. “You must keep quiet about it. One slip, and the Dark Lord could find out. After that...it will all be over and he will have won. You will have to take my place as official double agent, without letting anyone on either side know what it is you are doing. I trust you to be able to maintain the link between the organisations.”

She stood up and faced him. “Thank you for putting your trust in me. I won’t let you down, Father, I promise.”

He sighed. “That brings me to my next bit of information. Before I tell you this, please know that I do not think you should agree to the offer that was extended to you. I understand I cannot stop you, but I do not think it’s a good idea in the slightest. If you are anything like Lily, however, I know you will agree thanks to your Gryffindor sense of heroism, and it breaks my heart to think this.

“The Dark Lord is willing to let you run a Dark Arts shop for him. In fact, you could say he was delighted. However, there is one stipulation.” Severus sighed. “He cannot risk having an ally who could turn on him--as we are going to. Which is why he does not trust Borgin and Burke’s employees anymore. Unless you take the Dark Mark, he will not accept our offer.”

Harley was once again rendered speechless. He wanted her to become a Death Eater? She was about to say no, to scoff at the very idea, but she recalled the memory the Dementors had made her see, she heard her mother’s murder and her father’s anguished cries. Could she really let the Order down now after all they had suffered through?

“Harley, if you do not wish to do this, I will talk to Dumbledore, figure out something else you can do for the Order,” Severus said. “It is not set in stone that you must, and I would feel better if you didn’t.”

Harley sighed. “I’ll do it.”

Severus closed his eyes, and she could see that he was shaking. “I did not want this for you. I vowed to protect you, Harley, not turn you over to the wolves!”

She stepped up to him and took a trembling hand in his. “You  _ have  _ protected me, Father. And you are not turning me to the wolves: I have a choice, and I am making it now. I will take the Mark, and I will laugh and watch as he finally dies.”

He smirked down at her. “That’s my girl. Come, he will be expecting us. He gave me one hour to bring you, and that hour is nearly up.”

Giving her the location, they Apparated to outside a gorgeous manor house that was really quite impressive...if the Dark Mark was not hanging over the front gate.

“Malfoy Manor,” her father said. “Hold on to me, or else you’ll be repelled by the spell put around the entrance.”

Severus led her through the grounds and into the cold manor. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. With each step, Harley felt her nerves sing and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. As they closed in on their destination, the muffled silence gave way to murmured voices, and it sounded as if a woman was sniffling.

Severus opened a door at the end of the hall, and they walked into a dimly lit room with high ceilings and no windows. The long table could seat many, but just then there were only three people sitting around it.

One was a beautiful but obviously depressed blonde woman, seated next to a familiar blond teen: Draco Malfoy.  _ This must be Narcissa, his mother, _ Harley realised. The third was the Dark Lord himself. Harley had never seen him, but the marble, serpentine-like face and red eyes matched Harry’s description. She felt a ball of lead in her stomach and hoped she could be as outwardly calm as her father always was. Right then, all she could think of was  _ Avada Kedavra _ -ing him straight to Hell.

“Severus,” Voldemort said. Even his voice was serpentine. “I am so glad you returned. And this must be the young Miss Snape.”

“Yes. My daughter, Harley.” Severus nudged her.

She bowed low. “My lord. It is truly an honour to be received by you.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco’s mouth open in shock.

“Your father tells me you want to assist and give us a more trustworthy place to do our trade and business than that disgrace in Knockturn Alley,” Voldemort said.

“Yes, my lord. I recently opened a potions shop, and it would be quite easy for me to do trade with you all without arousing suspicion. In my two days open, I have already garnered the trust of the others in Hogsmeade,” Harley said.

“Wonderful. Severus, I never asked--who is her mother?” Voldemort wondered.

Harley’s heart gave a nervous leap, but her father had expected this question. “She passed away when Harley was a toddler. It was one night, and I never knew of the girl until her birth certificate was unearthed, a year after beginning Hogwarts.”

His eyes narrowed even more. “I see. And who raised you?”

“I was adopted by a Muggle family,” she replied, her mind quickly working to build up her story. “That is part of the reason your plight appeals to me. You see, I was very unhappy in the Muggle world. I was tormented daily.”

The tyrant nodded. “I am very glad to see so many are of a similar mindset. Now, let us begin. It is a pleasure to bring two new Death Eaters into the fold.” He took out his wand and pointed it at Draco. “You first, Malfoy.”

Draco cast one last look at Harley before he stepped in front of Voldemort.

Reciting a spell, the Dark Lord placed his wand to Draco’s inner left forearm and Harley watched as the Dark Mark began to appear slowly on his pale skin. He screamed, as the black skull and snake burned itself onto his flesh. The scream was from the depths of his soul, and his whimpers after were even worse to hear. He sounded like a very small child, not the bad boy he had always acted in school. At that moment, her heart went out to him. Taking the Mark was her choice, but he had no choice. Narcissa had to look away, fresh tears washing her face.

Voldemort released him, and he fell against a chair, panting. Turning his red slits to Harley, he beckoned her closer. She walked up to him, and her father followed, standing at her side much as Narcissa had stood by Draco.

Harley rolled up the lace sleeve of her black dress, baring her arm, and she bit the inside of her mouth as the villain brought his wand to her skin. She felt only a prickle at first, but then the pain worsened so badly it felt like she was being stabbed with a sharp, hot poker, her flesh being ripped open. She wanted to cry like Draco had, fall to her knees, and curl up in a ball.

But she was her father’s daughter, and she remained upright and stone-faced even as the pain exploded in her every nerve ending. Severus watched, his eyes dark and hooded. Unlike Narcissa, he did not cry or turn away.

When Voldemort released her arm, she felt the Mark burning like a Muggle tattoo would if you poured isopropyl alcohol on it. This was manageable, at least. She looked down at her arm, where she was now marked forever as something she was not. Evil. A Death Eater. She gingerly covered the Mark with her sleeve, backing away from him slightly. Severus put a comforting hand on her back.

Voldemort said, “It is a wonderful thing to welcome a second generation of Death Eaters in the fold. When will you have the room settled, Miss Snape, and how will you garner the trade necessary?”

“One week should suffice. I have a contact who can help me, and I am not afraid to use the Imperius Curse if necessary,” she replied. “Or  _ crucio _ .”

Again, Draco stared at her as though he were seeing things.

“Malfoy,” she said, glaring at the sweating teen. “I think it is safe to say that if one word gets out about my being here, the pain you just felt will be nothing compared to what I will do to you. Do we have an understanding?”

He nodded, blue eyes wide. “I can’t believe those rumours were true, that you are a Dark witch. I always thought they were just jealous of your talent.”

“Sometimes there is more to someone than meets the eye. In our cases, however, what you see is evidently what you get,” she replied.

Voldemort watched this exchange with interest.

“My lord, may we take our leave so Harley can begin her task?” Severus asked.

“Of course. You will know the usual way if I need you. Miss Snape, I expect updates regularly from you to your father,” he said.

“Of course, my lord.” She and Severus turned around and left. The moment they cleared the grounds, they both Apparated back to Spinner’s End.

Harley was glad to let her mask slip as she fell into an exhausted slump on the sofa. She watched her father lean on the armchair, his head on his clasped hands as if he were praying.

“Your mother must hate me,” he said, his voice emotionless. “I should never have let you go through with that.”

“Again, you did not let me do anything,” she replied. “As hard as this will be, I am doing it for Mum. For you. For all of us. I only hope I can be as brave as you have been.” She sighed, thinking of how hard this would be. There had been something niggling at the back of her mind since she had agreed to take the Mark, and she now knew she would have to now break not just her own, but another heart.

She stood up, despite how weak she felt, and said, “I must be going. I have a stop to make before I go back to my shop. Have you any Floo Powder?”

“Yes, in that canister on the mantle,” he said, pointing. “Where are you going?”

Sighing, she said, “I have to be sure everyone I love is safe. That means giving up a lot of the simple pleasures I have been used to. While I am pretending to be of service to the Dark Lord, I am afraid to keep Fred around. It is better if we separate for a while, to keep him safe.”

Severus was going to say something, probably prevent her from doing this, but her mind was made up. She threw the powder in the flames and said, “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes!”

In a flash, she was tumbling out of the fireplace in the brightly lit joke shop, making many of the late-night patrons jump.

She got up and said, “Bloody Hell, that is really quite unglamourous.”

Fred rushed over to brush the ashes from her cloak. “It’s great to see you! How is the shop? Was today your day off?”

She nodded. “Can we talk in private?”

“Yeah, of course. Be right back, George!” Fred called, leading her up the stairs to the flat the twins shared. Closing the door behind him, he looked at her and saw what she assumed was quite a haggard face. “Are you all right?”

“I am fine,” Harley said. “Well, no, I’m not. ...I received my first official mission for the Order. It will be long and arduous, and very dangerous. I came here because...well...I really just want to keep you safe, Fred. I love you with all my heart, and if you got hurt because of what I’m doing, I would never forgive myself.”

He looked at her quizzically. “What are you saying, Harley?”

“I am saying that I cannot see you anymore. I cannot have you close to me if it means an increased risk to your safety,” she said, feeling hot tears welling up in her eyes. It had been a trying day. The news about Dumbledore, meeting Voldemort face-to-face, seeing Draco taking the Mark, and taking it herself. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She did not let her tears fall, however, too much like her father to let anyone see her weak.

“What, are you crazy? Harley, we can’t break up because you want to play hero. I could never leave your side, especially if you’re in danger,” he said.

She sighed. “Knowing me could get us both killed. If you still want me after all this is over, maybe there will be a chance for us then, but right now this is safer for you.” She turned away, going to leave, and Fred grabbed her arm...right where the Mark was burning. The pressure on the fresh Mark made her cry out in pain.

“Harley, what is it? Are you hurt?” Fred went to move her sleeve but she wouldn’t let him.

Yanking her arm back, she said, eyes filled with tears that she did not let fall, “This is why I cannot be with you. I cannot have you get hurt. I love you too much, and if you love me you will listen to me.” She leaned in a kissed him softly before she Apparated into her flat.

Falling onto her bed, she burst into tears.


	30. Unbreakable Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus isn't the only Snape to make a vow.

Severus was used to sleepless nights, but this was worse than usual. He kept picturing Lily scolding him for what he had just allowed to happen. Their daughter, a Death Eater! He hated himself more than he ever had before. People thought he was so cold, but in reality he felt too much for one heart to handle.

It was nights like these that he really wished he was as cold as people said he was. He recalled his failed Occlumency lessons with Potter, and his repeated command of “control your emotions”. It had been his mantra since Lily had died, and sometimes the emotions he hid from everyone including himself came flooding back to him, making him wish he could Obliviate himself.

To top it off, adding insult to injury, Harley had left Fred, the Mark coming between them just as it had come between him and Lily. He refused to let his daughter ruin her life like he had. She was happy, and Fred loved her. He would not let them lose what he and Lily had lost. Especially not because of the bloody Dark Mark.

The next afternoon, he Apparated to Diagon Alley, where it was easy to spot the bright colours of the twins’ shop. He had never been fond of joke shops, as he had had too many Zonko’s products used on him when he was a child.

Entering the loud shop, some of the patrons looked at him as if he did not belong, and they were right: he didn’t. But Harley did, and he was determined to let her be where she could be happy and live the life he had been unable to.

He saw one of the twins tending the register and he said, “Weasley!” The boy looked up, shocked.

“Professor! Can I help you?”

“Which one are you?” He asked. “I can’t tell you apart when one of you is not snogging Harley.”

“I’m George,” he said. “Do you need me or Fred?”

“Fred. Now.”

George scurried away, calling for his brother. Today, Snape  _ could  _ tell the twins apart, because Fred was the one with red eyes from crying and bags from a sleepless night.

“Is everything okay with the Order?” Fred asked. The Weasley parents had inducted both twins into it when they left Hogwarts.

“Yes. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” Snape asked.

“Yeah--uh, yes, sir. Follow me.” Fred led him to a small back room that stored supplies. “What can I do for you?”

“Harley was here yesterday, telling you she needed to break up because of her job in the Order, correct?” Severus asked.

Fred nodded, looking at the ground.

“Normally I would not care for former students’ love lives, but this is a special case since I am still working with Harley. Tell me, do you...love her?” the professor asked.

Fred’s eyes widened. “Yes. I have loved her since I met her.”

“Then take my advice: do not let her go. She is being noble, a martyr. Do not let her get away. She is only ever happy with you, and she deserves happiness.”

Fred nodded. “But what do I do? She’s a hard girl to argue with. Kind of scary, you know? I mean...I was planning on asking her to marry me. I even bought a ring.”

Snape’s eyes widened this time, unable to hide the shock from his face. “Really, Weasley? Well. I think that is an excellent idea.” At face value, he was not sure he wanted his daughter to be a  _ Weasley _ , but Fred made her happy, and that was what counted. “The next Order meeting is tomorrow at six PM at the Hog’s Head. The ring had better be worthy of a girl like her,” he warned.

“The ring will be. I’m just not sure I am,” Fred admitted. “I mean...I know Harley doesn’t have parents, but she always looked up to you. Do you...if you say you’re okay with this, I’ll feel better about asking her. Am I worthy to be her husband? Do you approve?”

“Trust me, you’re not worthy enough whatsoever of a woman like Harley. But she loves you, so that makes up for it. Yes, I approve.” Severus said before he left, hoping that he could at least have done this much for his daughter.

 

****

 

Harley closed up shop at six sharp before she put on her cloak to get to the Hog’s Head. Her Mark was still burning, but not as bad as before. Her heart was in shambles because of Fred, and she did not expect to walk into the pub and see so many Weasleys. All the kids except for the two youngest were there, as were the parents.

She averted her eyes, unable to look at any of them, and she took a seat next to her father. She then saw Dumbledore’s hand, blackened with an incurable curse. Greeting everyone weakly, she removed her cloak and subconsciously pulled her sleeve lower on her wrist.

Dumbledore greeted them all and made a joke about his hand before anyone could ask about it. He then asked everyone if they had new findings for the Order.

The Weasley boys talked about shield invisibility cloaks and hats they were working on. Bill mentioned goblin unrest and said Charlie had no news. Remus said the werewolves were all on Voldemort’s side and he was trying to convince them to change to the Light. Tonks said she and Moody were guarding Hogsmeade to be sure that no harm came to the Wizarding community that resided there.

Harley made a note of it, that Aurors would be hanging around more often. She needed to be more discreet.

Mundungus Fletcher, a flighty and untrustworthy member of the Order, also had no news. Then again, who could believe him, being as unscrupulous as he was?

“Severus, Harley--everything went well with the two of you?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, sir,” Harley replied. “I believe our plan is all set. Any news and we will tell you.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore clapped his hands together and then said, “Before we leave, I believe that Fred Weasley has something to say?”

Fred stood up, and Harley saw how pale and troubled he looked. She felt terrible for being the cause of such heartbreak, but she had done it for the best. She watched him step directly in front of her barstool, his gaze more intense than she had ever seen it.

“Harley. I understand why you broke up with me the other day. I am sure what you’re doing is dangerous, and could get your loved ones killed. Hell, with You-Know-Who around, taking a walk down the street could get you killed, so I get it.

“But here’s the thing you don’t get: because you grew up alone, you don’t get that I am not going to leave your side when things get tough. Now, especially now, we need to stick together and get any happiness we can. I love you, and I am not going to leave your side, especially if what you’re doing is dangerous.”

Harley watched in mute shock as Fred bent down on one knee before her, holding out a Goblin-made ring.

“Yesterday I was given some great advice from your mentor and our former professor, and I am taking that advice: Harley, will you please put your pride away and marry me? Make me the happiest wizard in the world?”

Harley gasped, unable to really process this. “Oh my Merlin… Fred, are you joking?”

“Do you think so little of me that you think I’d make a joke about this? I love you, Harley, and I want to be with you forever. Come on, don’t make me get mushy and beg in front of my family!”

Harley gave a watery giggle, her heart beating a million miles a minute. “Oh, Fred...yes, I will marry you.”

Fred leapt up, slid the ring onto her finger and then swept her up in a long kiss while everyone cheered for them. Harley lay in his arms, her head buried in his neck. This had been an unreal two days, and it was not over yet.

The bartender gave them drinks on the house to celebrate the engagement, and she was nearly suffocated by the Weasleys, who would be gaining two daughters in law: Harley and Bill’s fiancee, the French witch Fleur Delacour.

“I much prefer you,” Mrs. Weasley commented in her ear, and Harley hid a laugh.

Everyone began to disperse, and Severus shook Fred’s hand. “Take care of her.”

“Because if I don’t you’ll hex me, right?” Fred said with a smile.

Severus glared at him. “No-- _ she _ will. Congratulations.” He gave Harley a warm look before he left. She knew he was probably heading for Malfoy Manor.

Remus gave Harley a hug. “I’m very happy for you both.”

She nodded, having said very little to her godfather all evening. She had not completely forgiven him for talking so cruelly about her father. Yes, Severus had not gotten along with the Marauders, but there were two sides to every story, and he had never once tried to look at her father’s side.

“Harley, George and I have to get back, because we closed the store a bit early. I’ll be back tonight,” Fred said.

“Sure. Just Apparate straight to my flat. I have business to attend to myself,” she replied, watching the Weasleys leave. She made her way back to the bar, where only Mundungus sat still, nursing another butterbeer.

Harley leaned on his back, hand clamped on his shoulder. “Perhaps we should talk at one of the tables in the corner. I have a business proposition for you, Fletcher.”

The small man looked startled, but he obediently followed her to another table, sequestered in the corner of the room. She could feel the bartender’s icy eyes on them, but knew he could not hear what she was saying.

“Um, what kind of business are you talking about, Miss Torrance?” he asked nervously.

“Number one, my name is Snape, not Torrance. Address me accordingly. Number two, if I decide that yes, I want to hire your services, you will need to promise me that everything you acquire for me will not be traced to me. Number three, no item I get from you will be shoddy or fake, like those bloody cauldrons last year. Do we have an understanding?” She leaned across the table, dark eyes burning into the squirrely man.

He swallowed hard, twice. “I--I understand.”

Harley sat back in her chair. “Good. Now, you are obviously aware that I have opened up a potions shop this week.” He nodded. “I require some items that could be seen as controversial. I will pay your dealers top dollar for them, and give you a five percent cut every time I make a sale. Sound good so far?” Again, he nodded. “If you agree, and you decide to play the hero and tell anyone it was I who requested these things, I will deny it right before I torture you to death. And I assure you, they will believe me over you.”

Fletcher looked terrified, but Harley knew the lure of Galleons was too much for him to ignore. He loved money above all things, and that was how she would be able to keep him in line so he didn’t reveal what he was doing for her.

“I’ll do it, sure,” he said, sweat coating his brow.

“Wonderful. I hope you’ve got a good memory…”

In a week, Harley’s backroom Dart Arts shop was set up. It was a bit scanty, but it was getting to be much better than Borgin and Burke’s. Her father came to see it and report back to Voldemort, letting him know there was a place for his Death Eaters to go in Hogsmeade.

Severus surveyed the murky, foul-smelling potions brewing, the animal parts, the vials of blood, and the various items that could grant certain abilities temporarily.

“Quite a place, Harley,” he said. “I am worried that you could be discovered by Tonks or Moody.”

“Then they can go to Dumbledore...as long as he is still alive. He will set them straight.”

****

 

Harley was livid. “What on Earth is that rat doing here?”

Severus sighed. “As the Dark Lord’s current right-hand, I am entitled to assistance. I had no idea it was to mean Pettigrew. Believe me, I do not want him in my home anymore than you do. If I had my way, he’d be bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.”

Harley sighed, settling into the sofa. Severus was expecting visitors, and he wanted her to be there, to solidify her presence amongst the other Death Eaters. She picked up the book she had had her eye on before, an old Dark Arts manual. She could easily see the appeal of the Dark side, especially to the hurt and oppressed like her and her father. As she read, there was a knock at the door.

“Time to give another Oscar-worthy performance,” he told her as he called to Wormtail to answer the door. The rat came back leading Narcissa Malfoy and another woman into the room. Harley had never met her, but she recognised Bellatrix Lestrange from her wanted posters after her escape from Azkaban. Tall, thin, with wild black hair and a face that must once have been beautiful, Bellatrix exuded evil in her very mien.

Narcissa nodded at Harley in greeting, and Bellatrix glared daggers at her. “I had assumed we’d be alone,” the witch said, disgust in her very voice.

“Anything said in front of me can be said in front of my daughter,” Severus said, inviting the women to sit. “Harley, this is Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix, meet Harley.”

“You go to school with the little Malfoy, right?” Bellatrix asked her.

“I graduated already,” Harley replied.

“Oh. He claims he never took you for one of us, but your whole class said you were destined for the Death Eaters?” Bellatrix leaned forward in her chair. “Is it true? The second Gryffindor to join our ranks?”

Harley glared at her. “Is there a purpose for the third degree you’re giving me, Lestrange? Is my Dark Mark not enough for you? If not, then may I ask that you take the Dark Lord’s word that I am surely your ally?”

Bellatrix sniffed, offended. “You have no body count behind you.”

“Please,” Harley said, “I am much more than a goon to the Dark Lord. ...Though, speaking of body counts, let me congratulate you on your murder of Sirius Black. I hated him with a passion. Though I do wish you would have saved him for me.”

Bellatrix laughed, placated, just as Harley had known she’d be.

Narcissa interjected smoothly but tearfully, revealing that she had come to beg for Draco to be spared from the task Voldemort had given him. She did not say what, but both Harley and Severus knew: he was picked to kill Dumbledore, just as the wizard had said he would be. Bellatrix tried interjecting, but Narcissa begged--literally--that Severus do something.

When Bellatrix mentioned the Unbreakable Vow, Harley did not quite understand what she was talking about, having never heard of it before. She watched her father reluctantly agree, even while Bellatrix repeated that it was a bad idea, that he was a coward at heart and wouldn’t go through with it.

If only she knew what a brave man Severus Snape really was, she’d never dare to call him a coward!

“Can you perform the Charm needed for the Vow?” Narcissa asked Harley.

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, I never thought I’d need to learn that.”

“ _ She _ can,” Severus said, gesturing to Bellatrix. “By doing so, she cannot tell the Dark Lord what occurred here. I do not need to worry myself of my daughter’s silence, and neither should you: I trust her with my life. ...Bella...not so much.”

Harley stood back and watched as Bellatrix poised her wand over Narcissa and Severus’ joined hands, entwining them in magical flames. When it was over, she asked, “Excuse my ignorance, but what will happen if one of you does break the Vow? Or is it impossible, like being tortured as a Secret Keeper?”

Severus looked at her and said, “If you break the Vow, you die.”

When Narcissa and Bellatrix left, Harley was the one who saw them out. “If either of you do something and my father dies, you will never know rest until after I have killed you both...and Draco as well, if the Dark Lord has not gotten to him first.”

“Hm. Maybe I will start to like you after all,” Bellatrix said, laughing as they Apparated away, back to Malfoy Manor.

Walking back to her father, Harley said, “Why on Earth would you enter into a bond like that, Father?”

“Because I have to kill Albus anyway. I cannot break the Vow even if I wanted to condemn myself to death, because I have already made the promise,” he replied. “Speaking of, the Dark Lord was wondering what those shield cloaks the twins were developing would be like? Have they shown them to you, or talked to you about them?”

“Not much, no,” she replied. “I highly doubt they will be out of the prototype stage anytime soon, though. I will inquire about them during my next trip to the store. Usually Fred comes to my flat, and I am rarely at Diagon Alley.”

Severus cleared his throat. “Are you happy, Harley? With Fred, I mean? We have not had much time to discuss it since the engagement happened.”

Harley smiled. “Yes, I am very happy. I cannot believe he asked for your approval. How very formal of him.”

“He was afraid you would not agree if I did not think him a worthy husband,” Severus said, pouring cups of tea. “I do not. I have never liked the Weasleys personally, but that boy loves you, and I see how happy you are when you are with him...not unlike how I was when I was with your mother.

“Your mother and I were night and day, no one understood our relationship...not that it ever progressed very far until we were older. You and Fred seem similar, and all I can hope for you is that you have the happy ending I never got.”

Harley reached over and patted her father’s arm. “Thank you. When this is all over, I cannot wait to marry him.”

“Why wait? His brother is not.”

“Because of two reasons. Number one, I do not want to have this darkness clouding our wedding day. Two, I refuse to get married unless my father can walk me down the aisle to give me away,” she said.

 

****

 

“The Dark Lord has a job for you,” Severus said, striding into Harley’s shop one afternoon in late August.

“Well, how fortunate for you that there were no customers out of your line of sight to have heard that,” she said, smirking.

Severus returned it. “You are not allowed to use my own sarcasm against me. Draco plans on purchasing a necklace from Borgin and Burke’s in about an hour. You need to be sure they give him the proper item. Not that it will work: ridiculous to think of, but the Dark Lord thinks that it might kill Draco instead of Dumbledore, and save him the trouble of doing it himself.”

“Why me?” Harley asked.

“You are the least conspicuous of the Death Eaters,” Severus replied. “Most likely because you look so young and could still be in Hogwarts. He will also be looking at a Vanishing Cabinet, akin to one that needs repairing at the school. It will be essential to the Vow I made not being broken, and my promise to Albus fulfilled.”

Harley locked her register and stepped out from behind it. “All right. Tell him I am on my way. I can bring these to the Weasleys’ early, too.” She took a box from below the counter and hefted it under one arm. Giving her father a wave, she said, “Lock up for me, will you?”

“Of course. I received some good news today: I have finally gotten my post. I will be the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher this year,” he said, and she heard a note of pride in his voice. “Turns out, Dumbledore needs the Potions Master post available for the fight against the Dark Lord, and this was the only way to keep me at Hogwarts.”

She smiled. “Looks like the students are finally getting a proper education in that area. Congratulations, Father. I know you wanted that position for some time now.” She was not concerned about the curse on the position: Voldemort would never kill Severus.

With a crack, she Apparated into the middle of Diagon Alley, carrying the box of rabbit fur potions under one arm, she walked down to Knockturn Alley, the dark, narrow shopping centre beckoning her, as it beckoned many others with its Dark charms.

She walked into the shop, and Burke was the one tending the register. His sleeves were rolled up against the summer heat, and she saw he did not have the Mark, just as Voldemort had said. Harley cleared her throat pointedly.

Burke jumped, sheepish at not having noticed her. “Can I help you, Miss?”

“I am here on behalf of the Dark Lord,” she said, cutting to the chase. “In the past, you have been known to overcharge or charge for goods that do not do what they claim. In a little while, the son of Lucius Malfoy will be looking to purchase a very particular necklace, and I would like to be certain that you will not be pulling the wool over his eyes.”

Burke scoffed. “What are you, seventeen at best? How am I supposed to believe you?”

Placing her box at her feet, Harley rolled up the sleeve of the simple cotton shirt she was wearing to show him her Mark. “This is how: because I was brave enough to do what you and your partner could not, like the lying cowards you are. Now, you will do as Draco says when he comes. You will give him whatever he needs. You will not rip him off as you would another of his age who came here. Do we have an understanding, Burke? Believe me, you do not want me returning here.”

She watched as Burke spluttered and agreed before she left. She felt good. She wasn’t one for violence, but the threats she could do. Harley enjoyed seeing fear in the eyes of those who looked at her. It was exciting, and it made her feel powerful. She wondered if this was what her father had felt when he had first joined Voldemort.

Walking back to Diagon Alley, she was about to go into the twins’ shop when she saw that Harry and his friends were also there. She had not seen any of them since her shop opened two months prior. She had been so busy, there had been little time to think about socialising. She noticed that Ollivander’s was closed and wondered if it was the Dark Lord’s doing. The entire Alley seemed fairly desolate, fear of the Death Eaters keeping people at home.

She walked into the shop, noticing the “U-No-Poo” sign in the window and hiding a laugh behind her free hand.

“Harley!” Fred cried, rushing to take the box from her and kissing her. “We get engaged and I barely see you anymore.”

“My God, yes, I forgot: congratulations, Harley!” Hermione said brightly.

There was a chorus of congratulatory remarks, which she accepted gladly.

“These are for you: rabbit fur. Also elongates the ears, too,” she said. “That’s what took me so long to complete them: the lengths were always too large or too small.”

The twins laughed. “Brilliant! These will sell right away.”

“So, how are those cloaks coming?” Harley asked nonchalantly. “Any progress?”

Fred shook his head. “Not yet. If we make them invisible, they don’t protect you. If they protect you, you can still see a shimmer of them. We’re working on them, though. ...How’s your arm?” He gestured to her left arm.

“What happened to your arm?” Ginny asked, worried.

“Oh, nothing. A small wound earlier this summer. It no longer hurts, though I will be scarred for life,” she replied, rubbing her hand over where the Mark sat. “I told you--what I am doing is dangerous.” She had not slept with Fred unless they were in total darkness, so he did not see the Mark. She had kept up the wound story and bandaged it when she knew he would be seeing her without long sleeves on.

“I can’t believe Dumbledore let you do something that got you hurt,” Harry said.

She shrugged. “I made my choice to take the mission, no one forced me. You know, seeing you guys getting ready for school, I feel weird. I feel like I should be buying supplies, too.”

Harry laughed. “I can't wait for this year more than ever,” he said.

“Why is that? I thought you would want to be out fighting the Dark Lord, not sitting in Transfiguration,” Harley said.

“Yeah, true. But I only got an ‘E’ on my Potions OWL. That means no more Snape this year, because I didn’t get a high enough grade!” Harry’s utter joy made her feel sick.

Harley glanced out the window, seeing a distinctive blonde head walk by and head down Knockturn Alley. Kissing Fred, she said, “I’ve got to get back to my shop. I will see you guys.” She reached the door and then turned back, unable to resist saying, “Oh, and Harry,  _ do  _ enjoy your Defence Against The Dark Arts classes this year.”  _ You little brat _ .

She walked and glanced down Knockturn, and saw Draco just standing outside of Borgin and Burke’s, too nervous to go in.

“Malfoy, in or out, kid,” she said as she walked past him, making him jump. “We’ve all got our part to play; you do not get to skip yours because you are scared. And don’t linger overlong: Potter and his friends will be by soon. Do you want them to see you?”

Draco shook his head, but she Apparated away before he could speak. He was a silly little boy, and definitely not cut out for this. If the Dark Lord had any reason to expect that Draco could succeed, he was going to be very disappointed.


	31. The Life of A Spy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical day in the life of an Order spy: cursed blades, selling poison, and torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this chapter requires a content warning, but there is a bit of torture via Cruciatus happening, just for the severely sensitive to violence readers. xo

Harley received an owl from Harry one day after term began at Hogwarts. All it said was, “You are a very cruel person.” She laughed aloud, knowing this was about her little jibe over the DADA classes.

Being the official place the Death Eaters came to for their Dark Arts needs, Harley was able to avoid almost every meeting with Voldemort because she was needed to keep the shop safe. Occasionally, she knew the Dark Lord was sending certain employees of his to check up on her and make sure things were running smoothly.

First was, of course, Bellatrix. Harley noticed that the moment she walked in, her customers quickly bought their items or just up and let without purchasing anything. Vowing to charge Bellatrix double for whatever she bought, Harley said, “And to what do I owe the pleasure of  _ your  _ patronage this afternoon, Lestrange?”

“I’d like a new blade, Snape. The Dark Lord says the curse wore off of mine.” Bellatrix held up a blade that did indeed look old.

Harley took it from her and felt no magic in it. “He’s correct. I can put a new curse on it. What was the hex originally placed here?”

“A version of your father’s Bleeding Curse. Eternal scars no potion can remove,” Bellatrix replied.

“And it wore off? That’s not my father’s curse,” Harley said, offended. “Whoever performed it was a pale imitator. Wait here.” Harley went into her back room and searched through the small cursed weapons she had either bought from Fletcher or hexed herself. Finding the short blade, she brought it back to the Death Eater in her shop.

Bellatrix held the blade to catch the candlelight. “What is it?”

“My making. Cursed with  _ sectumsempra _ , and  _ vulnera sanentur _ will not work to stop the bleeding or scarring. And with one dip in my Polishing Potion, it also won’t become dull or rust...unlike this thing you brought to me.” She gestured disdainfully at the old knife. “You won’t find better, I assure you.”

Bellatrix regarded the blade. “I don’t like you, but I can’t deny you’re bright, Snape.”

On another day, Voldemort sent in Amycus Carrow, who was probably the most violent Death Eater, asking for Felix Felicis.

Harley laughed scornfully. “Like I would keep something that valuable on hand. Do you need it, or the Dark Lord?”

“What would the difference be?” he sneered.

“My price.” She smirked. “And if he is the one that wants it, he should know that he is the one who asked me to never keep it at the ready in case the opposition got their hands on it.” She leaned forward, arms crossed. “Next time he wants to check up on me, he should send someone more believable.”

Amycus looked furious, but what could he do? “I need a small phial of brown widow venom.”

“Twenty Galleons. I will be right back.” Harley went into her back room and carefully measured out the poison into her smallest phial. “Depending on the weight of your intended victim, you’ll need about two-thirds of this if they were, say, my height and weight. If they were yours, you will require the entire bottle, but only half if they are smaller than I. Need the antidote?”

“Nope.” He stalked out without saying anything else.

Through her windows, she noticed an abundance of school kids, which meant that Hogwarts was having their first Hogsmeade trip, though they really should have stopped them. Dumbledore had always seemed reckless, even with human life.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron came in. “How do you check if a potion is real?” Harry asked.

“Odd question. Well, you can test it out on someone. If you’re too scared to try, hand it over and I should be able to verify just by colour and consistency,” she said.

Harry placed a bottle filled with gold liquid. “Our new Potions professor gave it to me: I won it.”

Harley gaped at the bottle. “Are you bloody serious? I just had a customer get angry it takes six months to brew, and that the price was too high, and you have someone give away  _ Felix Felicis _ ? What an imbecile.” Gingerly opening the bottle, she saw that it was indeed real. “So, how come you’re taking Potions again?”

“The new professor takes everyone with an ‘E’ grade and up...unlike Snape. By the way, very nice, telling me to enjoy Dark Arts class!” Harry complained, pocketing his bottle. “Dumbledore made the announcement and I thought I was going to die.”

“Sorry, but I really could not resist.”

Neville and Luna came in, and Neville looked glum. “Harley, isn’t there some potion to improve your skills?” He asked.

“Skills? As in, in general? There is one, but it’s illegal for me to sell it to students. The only way to improve is studying and paying attention in class,” Harley replied.  _ Not that you have half a brain to do that _ . She noticed Luna was looking at her potions to charm animals. “See something you need?”

“Probably something to attract a Crumple Horned Snorkack,” Ron said, laughing. “Loony Lovegood thinks they’re real-- _ OW _ !”

Harley had taken her wand and given Ron a shock. “No bullying allowed in or around my property. Be nice or get out.”

“Well,  _ that  _ wasn’t very nice!” Ron cried. “And to think you’re invited on Christmas Eve and Day to the Burrow. Mum invited the whole Order, even you and Snape.”

“I am invited to my own fiance’s home for Christmas? How nice,” she snapped.

At that moment, Tonks walked in with two male wizards Harley did not recognise.

“Hey, kid, sorry, but these two are Aurors from the Ministry. Random inspection today,” Tonks said.

“Quite all right. Come in, all of you.” Harley was confident that her magic was strong enough to completely hide her backroom shop.

The two men greeted Ron, and Harley gathered that they were friends of Mr. Weasley’s. “Might not be Aurors for long,” one told Ron.

“How come?” Ron asked.

“We’re Muggle-borns, an’ they’re tryin’ to get rid of a lot of us,” the other man said. “Said it makes us targets. Poppycock, I say.”

They inspected the store and then complimented Harley on the great job she did. “For a young girl like you, for any witch, this is an impressive place,” the first wizard said.

“There are potions here I never heard of, even at Hogwarts,” the second added.

“Then you had a very poor Potions master compared with mine,” she replied with a smile. “If I checked out, might I ask all of you to leave so my customers can actually fit in here?”

They all laughed, and as they left, they had to duck under an owl, coming to deliver Harley a letter on the black parchment she recognised as her father’s.

“You are required to attend the meeting tomorrow night. No excuses.”

The next evening, Severus met her at her shop as she was locking the doors.

“Draco failed, and nearly killed a student yesterday,” he told her. “The Dark Lord was not pleased when I owled him to tell him a simple girl fell victim to Draco’s attempts...and did not even die.”

“Who was she?” Harley asked.

“Katie Bell.”

“Oh. Too bad,” Harley said bitterly, remembering how the girl had tormented her right alongside Alicia.

They Apparated as close to the manor as they could and walked the rest of the way, Harley feeling that familiar pit in her stomach every time she stepped closer to the gate that admitted Death Eaters only.

Once they were in the manor, they went to the drawing room where the meetings always took place. Almost all of the Death Eaters were there, minus Draco, of course, and those few still in Azkaban.

Severus took his seat to the right of Voldemort, and Harley next to him. She noticed Bellatrix, seated across from her father, staring at her with a knowing smirk on her face.

Voldemort waited to be sure they were all there before he said, “I have in the past put my trust in traitors. Which is why, with my newest Death Eaters, I have given them tasks to perform to prove their loyalty. Even if they fail, as young Malfoy did today, at least they proved that they are trying to impress me.

“Miss Snape, thus far you have done well with your shop. However, Bellatrix recently brought to my attention that you have no body count behind you and little fear surrounds your name.”

“That is correct, my lord, but only because I would be kicked out of Hogsmeade if people feared me. That would mean losing the shop,” she explained, her rage at the witch flaring up.

“True. But tonight you will prove to me that you will do what you have to do for our mission. Nott, bring the prisoner here, will you?”

_ Prisoner _ ? Harley glanced at her father who gave a shrug. They all watched in silence as Nott came back, half dragging a chained up old wizard: Ollivander, the wandmaker. He was babbling and pleading.

“I need information from him, and he is not complying. Usually, I would have Bellatrix persuade him, but she suggested you might like to instead,” Voldemort said.

“My lord, is this necessary for her to do?” Severus asked. “You said it yourself, Bellatrix is always the one to do this. You do not need Harley.”

“I do not  _ need  _ her to do this, but she needs to in order to prove that she is willing to bring harm and fear in my name,” Voldemort snapped. “This is no place for those unwilling to get their hands dirty.”

“It’s all right, Father,” she said quietly, pressing her hand to his arm. “I had expected this before long.” She stepped up to where they had thrown Ollivander on the floor. Her wand was out, but not pointing at him. To say she did not want to do this would be a lie. To tell the truth was to say that she was afraid of her desire to do harm.

“I will give you one chance to tell my master what he wants to know,” she told him. “One chance to save yourself a lot of pain.”

He shook his head, staring up at Voldemort, unblinking in fear.

Gripping the end of her wand, Harley pointed it at him and said, “ _ Crucio _ .” The old man screamed, curling into a ball. She recalled Harry saying the spell would not work unless you truly mean to cause pain. The second she saw what it did, she did not want to do this anymore, and was afraid that, if the spell did not work for her again, Voldemort would kill her.

Ollivander pleaded with her again, and she wished she could stop. She had no desire to hurt the old man any longer, but she needed that spell to work. She closed her eyes, picturing Alicia Spinnet’s face instead of the old man’s, and then said, “ _ Crucio _ ” once again. It worked even better than before, as he began to claw at his own limbs to relieve the pain.

During that moment, she saw Voldemort hold his head as she had seen Harry do when he had a vision. Was Harry seeing this? Seeing her torturing someone? Fear pooled into her gut, but she gave the curse again, and Ollivander’s scream ricocheted off the high walls of the manor.

“If he does not talk after that, he never will,” Narcissa said, her voice wavery. “I’ve never seen anyone give Cruciatus so violently.”

Voldemort asked him if he was ready to answer questions, but Ollivander had passed out from the pain. “Take him back. Excellent job, Miss Snape. More impressive even than your father’s Cruciatus, and that says quite a bit.”

Harley was exhausted and her limbs were shaking from the reality of what she had done. She wanted to go straight to her father’s house and sleep for at least two days.

“I do hope I have proven myself to you, my lord,” she said, leaning against her father. He put his arm around her shoulders to keep her steady.

“Almost, yes. I require one more thing from you.” Those serpentine, red eyes bore into her black ones, but she did not flinch. Like her father, she did not show fear or doubt. “Blood. I expect at least two bodies of my enemies from you before the end of the year. No exceptions, or Severus will once again be childless.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter! The next one was really fun to write so I hope you all stick around! xo


	32. We Wish You A Bloody Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley has to carry out the Dark Lord's task on Christmas Eve.

Severus was not sleeping that night. How could he sleep ever again after what Voldemort had said?

The meeting had ended after he threatened Harley’s life, and Severus had led his daughter out of the barrier surrounding the manor and she had clung to him. He felt her shaking. “Can you Apparate?” he asked. She shook her head no. “Hold on tight, then.” He had not done Side-Along Apparition a lot, but he managed to get them both safely to his house.

Once there Harley nearly collapsed onto a chair. Severus remembered the first time he had used Cruciatus, and he remembered how much energy it had taken out of him. His heart was a mix of worry and rage over Harley and the threat on her life. He had carried her to her room and laid her in her bed, where she fell asleep immediately.

And so, Severus was unable to sleep. Harley now had a terrible choice to make: become a murderer, or die. At this point, he was not sure which was worse. He had not wanted this for her. He had hoped to steer her far away from this, and yet he had let Dumbledore convince him that this was a good thing, to let her join him.

He heard a cry and bolted out of bed, throwing his dressing gown on. Harley kept crying out, sounding like the little girl he had never known. At the threshold to her room, he peered in, able to see in the darkness. Harley was crying, tears streaking her face as she writhed in her sleep, a nightmare gripping her mind.

He heard her say, “No don’t go. Don’t leave me!”

The memory from the Dementors, the one where she said she wanted to cry to him not to leave her when she had heard him in the other room, the night Lily had died. His heart broke to think how many times she might have had this nightmare, waking up to cry alone.

He walked in quietly, not wanting to startle her more. “Harley,” he whispered. “Harley, wake up.” He had absolutely no idea what to do. He was rubbish at being a father. He had never been given comfort by his parents, so how was he expected to know how to take care of his own child? He wished Lily were there, she would have known what to do.

She cried out again, sounding so lost and alone. “Harley!” he said loudly. “Come on, don’t cry.” He held his hand to her forehead, making sure she was not feverish. The touch roused her, and she blinked at him, trying to see either through the tears or in the dark. She looked barely older than ten as she looked up at him, tear-stained and makeup-free.

“Father,” she said, burying her head in his chest. For the first time, all of her defences were down and she was just a small, scared little girl who was severely lacking in love. He let her cry, and he held her until she fell back asleep. An innocent little girl, forced to be something she wasn’t. Severus knew there was nothing he could do now to get back time lost, but he promised himself he would not let her darken her soul anymore than she already had. He needed to come up with a plan to keep her from having to kill anyone. He thought he might have just the thing...

 

****

 

“An inspection on Christmas Eve? Really? I was just about to close up shop,” Harley complained when the two men from the Ministry returned.

“Oh, no, actually we made a bit of a mistake,” the first man said. “Every business owner was supposed to fill out a form, and this is Scrimgeour's punishment for our forgetting: making us bring angry wizards and witches down to the Ministry to fill out forms on Christmas Eve.”

“It won’t take more than ten minutes,” the second man reassured her.

Harley sighed. “You had best hope so. I have Christmas to spend with my fiance’s family, not waiting in a bloody office. Honestly, if you at the Ministry were in any way competent, everyone’s lives would be so much easier.” She grabbed her cloak and gloves and Apparated with the men to the phone booth that would take them down into the Ministry.

After signing a tedious form, the men led Harley back to the surface. No one got in and out of the Ministry without escorts these days.

The whole area was nearly deserted, and the few people that were out were Muggles who wouldn’t notice witchcraft if they were being  _ Crucioed  _ themselves.

Harley sighed, knowing she had one chance to do this or else she’d wind up in Azkaban for Christmas.

Taking her wand out slowly, she wished there was a nonverbal spell for this as she pointed at the wizards and said, “ _ Petrificus totalus _ !” Both men stiffened like boards and fell to the ground. Reaching into her coat, she took out the flask of a potion her father had made the night before.

She bent down and poured some down each man’s throat, watching as it took effect. She sighed with relief. Now all she needed was one little spell, and Voldemort’s task for her would be done. Two Muggle-borns down for the count, and not one Unforgivable Curse used.

“What the Hell is going on here?”

Harley jumped, hearing a woman’s shrill voice. Nothing had prepared her for just who had caught her: Alicia Spinnet.  _ Damn it all to Hell,  _ Harley thought.  _ Of all witches to catch me, it had to be the only one who tried to murder me? _

“ _ You _ . Why am I not surprised?” Alicia had her wand at the ready. “What the Hell did you do to them?”

“Back off, Spinnet. You have absolutely no idea what you’re up against,” Harley warned.

“I think I have a pretty good idea. I knew you were rotten from the moment I met you,” Alicia spat. “No one listened to me that you’d become evil. Now I can prove it to everyone.”

“I’m giving you one chance. This is far beyond your meagre powers of comprehension, so put your wand down and go, Mudblood,” Harley said.

“ _ Stupefy _ !” Alicia said, casting the first blow.

“ _ Protego _ !” Harley cried, deflecting the spell. “ _ Expelliarmus _ !” Alicia’s wand went flying somewhere behind her in the wet street. “ _ Crucio _ !” She watched Alicia fall to the ground, a scream coming from her throat. “ _ Crucio _ !” Alicia writhed on the ground, her scream turning to breathy gasps. Tears streaked her face. All the hate, all the rage Harley had kept bottled up since she was fourteen spilled over as she watched her tormentor finally be the victim.

“ _ Sectumsempra _ !” Large gashes came on Alicia’s body and blood began to gush from the wounds on her chest and face. Her screams became hoarse. “ _ Crucio _ !” Harley watched as more blood spilled as new pain washed over Alicia, making her twist on the ground, opening the wounds further. “ _ Crucio _ !” Tears and blood mingled on her face, which would be unrecognisable now from scars. Harley twisted her wand and Alicia’s body contorted so that Harley heard a rib snap. Her shrieks were so loud, she was certain Alicia had busted a vocal chord. Bending down, avoiding the blood, Harley dripped some of the potion down her throat as well. This had not been part of the plan, but it worked out better than she would have expected.

Holding her wand aloft, she said “ _ Morsmordre _ ” before she Apparated from the crime scene.

She came about half a mile from The Burrow and collapsed on the snow-covered ground. She was not as drained as she had been when she first used the Cruciatus Curse, but she was shaking with adrenaline. Calming herself, she had to make sure there was no blood on her before she went to the Weasleys’ home. Just in case, she sent a bland levitating spell from her wand, so if it was tested, it would not show the spell to summon the Dark Mark.

She was able to think more clearly now, and she steadied her breathing. Despite nearly being caught, she was filled with the dark relief one gets when they finally best their rivals. She’d been waiting five years to watch Alicia suffer, and her revenge was sweeter after it had had time to simmer inside of her.

She walked over to The Burrow and rang the doorbell with a smile on her face. Molly opened the door and greeted her with a warm hug.

“You got here early! How wonderful. Come on in, love.” Molly took her cloak and hung it up as she removed her gloves and snow-sodden boots. “Everyone is in the sitting room. We hadn't expected you till later.”

“I managed to close up early,” she replied. “Happy Christmas.”

Harley walked into the sitting room, where Remus, Tonks, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the twins, Bill, and Fleur were all sitting. Fleur was talking so fast Harley could not understand a single word through her thick accent.  _ Being part veela has to be part of the reason Bill likes her _ , she thought as Fred jumped up to kiss her.

“Happy Christmas, love,” he said. “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

“I suppose I’m just very into the Christmas spirit today.” Harley kissed him back and greeted everyone. Was it wrong to be feeling so blissful at what she had just done to Alicia, when Alicia had set out to poison her when they were barely even sixteen?

“Here is who you should show that book to, Harry,” Hermione said when Harley sat down, half draped in Fred’s lap.

“What book?” Harley asked.

Harry reached into his bag (he had yet to put it away) and pulled out an extremely battered copy of  _ Advanced Potion Making _ . “When I thought I wasn’t taking Potions anymore,” he began with a pointed look at Harley, “I didn't get any of the supplies, including the book. This came from old extras hanging around the school. The student who used it wrote in the margins, changing the potion recipes and writing spells.”

“I’m worried it might be dangerous. We brought up the one spell Harry used with Remus just now, but he doesn't know about the others or the potions,” Hermione explained. “Harry thinks this person is some sort of genius, but I’m unsure.”

Harley held out her hand. “Let me see. At least I can tell you if the potion updates seem okay to use. Are you getting good marks using them so far?”

Harry nodded. “Perfect scores every time. Hermione is just jealous of that.”

“I am not!” Hermione cried. “These are just more difficult than fifth year skills.”

“So, Slughorn is teaching potions that you can’t make, but the corrections some kid wrote down are getting Harry top scores?” Harley asked, gingerly opening the book so she didn’t damage it. It was at least twenty years old and falling apart. The first potion that had corrections was an easy one given to sixth years at Hogwarts to cure spattergroit. She had not read the book in class, because her father had put the directions right on the blackboard so they could keep their tables clear of books.

“This...looks wrong, without the kid’s corrections. That’s not how we learned it in class,” she commented. She turned the page. He or she had adjusted the Draught Of Living Death, changing the book’s version to the recipe she had been using since she was a student, and then there was a spell scrawled into the side: “ _ levicorpus _ ” and the abbreviation for “nonverbal”.

“That’s the spell my dad used once, in a memory,” Harry said.

“It was a fad spell; someone must have seen this student’s book and decided to spread it around,” Remus added. “It suspends the victim mid-air.”

On another page was a spell that had the caption “for my enemies”. The spell was the Bleeding Curse, her father’s creation. “Have you used this?” Harley asked Harry, showing him the spell.

“Not yet. Why?”

“Because you could kill someone, that’s why,” Harley snapped. “It’s good to have it on hand for the coming war, but do not ever use it on an innocent. It is dangerous.”

Hermione looked triumphant. “See? I told you!”

Harley flipped to the inside cover, noticing the inscription, “ _ This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince _ .” She smirked, realising just who Harry was taking instructions from. It also explained why Hermione was getting bad marks in Potions, but Harry was excelling. Slughorn wasn’t teaching the improvements written here, because only one Potion Master knew them. She flipped through the pages, reading more of her father’s corrections and ideas. “ _ Just shove a bezoar down their throats _ .” Yep, that sounded just like the man she knew and loved.

She handed the book back to Harry. “You are in no danger from following the directions of the Half-Blood Prince,” she said. “Indeed, Hermione, you would do well to copy the notes in this textbook. Some of those spells might not be advisable to use now, or at school, but the potion corrections he made are spot on. When this year is over with, can I have the book?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure, why not? I already stole it, kinda. I was planning on keeping it.”

“I think the woman who wrote the notes was named Eileen Prince,” Hermione spoke up.

Remus said, “That sounds familiar.”

“If it was anyone, it was her son. Eileen Prince was a pureblood,” Harley said. “I saw her name when I snuck into the student records one night in my fifth year.”

“You? You did something to break rules? Let me call the  _ Daily Prophet _ !” Fred joked.

Ron scrunched up his face, trying to remember something. “Hey, when you came into Grimmauld Place, didn’t Sirius call you the Half-Blood Princess?”

Harley shrugged. “Probably common nicknames at some point for half-bloods.”

As she said that, they heard the door opening and two more voices were heard. One was recognisably deep, her father’s. The other was Mr. Weasley’s nasally tone. Molly preceded them into the living room and said, “There’s been another Muggle-born attack.” She then burst into tears, running off.

“What happened?” Harry asked.

Arthur took off his hat and wrung it between his hands. “Two of them were Ministry workers, friends of mine. The third...did you kids go to school with Alicia Spinnet?”

Everyone glanced at each other, but they all found their eyes resting on Harley.

“She tried to kill Harley,” Fred spoke up. “She was in our year and our House.”

Arthur looked down, unable to continue.

“She was tortured,” Severus spoke up. “The Bleeding and Cruciatus Curses were used repeatedly on her. Apparently a Muggle saw what happened, and Arthur called me in to give him a Memory Charm. A Death Eater attacked the first two and Spinnet saw, subsequently engaging the Death Eater in a duel. She lost.”

“Oh, my God…” Hermione breathed. “I can’t...they  _ killed  _ one of us.”

“Hardly one of us,” Harley scoffed. “She did try to kill me, remember? I mean, no one deserves what happened to her, but she was hardly an innocent victim. If she wasn’t attacked because she was a Muggle-born, then she would have been because she is a bitch.”

The news put a damper on their Christmas cheer at The Burrow. Indeed, Tonks left that evening, not staying the night as she had planned with the rest to be there on Christmas Day. It seemed that she was still distraught over Sirius’ death.

“Remus, I never told you, but I am sorry for your loss,” Harley said, taking her godfather aside. “I know how close you both were. I...cannot imagine losing Fred in such a manner,” she said.

“Thank you, Harley. He was a very special person,” Remus agreed. “It just so happens that Tonks was just as in love with him as I was. We have bonded a bit over the mutual loss.”

“I am not great with the whole tea and sympathy thing, Remus, but I can offer you an ear to listen if you need to talk, or if you need me to brew you anything to ease your grief,” she offered. “It cannot be easy for you right now, and going back to the werewolves after tomorrow can’t be something you’re looking forward to. I have a lot of potions on hand at all times, so please just owl me if you need me.”

He nodded. “I might take you up on that. I know we started off rocky, but you’re a great kid, Harley. Your mum would be very proud of you, especially being in the Order.”

Severus left for the night, saying he would return the next evening for his dinner invitation. He took Harley aside and whispered, “Excellent job tonight. Just as we planned. But what on Earth was Alicia doing there?”

She shrugged. “Search me. Wrong place, wrong time. But I will be damned if I do not say that that felt wonderful. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, I will be here. I have to stop at the manor; I imagine Bella has become incensed that you completed your task.” He smirked and left then.

Christmas Day was filled with strained cheer. Between everyone detesting Fleur and he news of the attack the previous night, no one was in much of a celebrating mood, though Molly did her very best and the rambling house was as cheerful as it could get.

Ginny and Hermione looked over the make-up kit Harley had given Ginny (she made the cosmetics herself, and planned on selling them at her shop, and possibly the twins’ as well), Harry and Ron pored over the Half-Blood Prince’s book, and Fred continuously made mistletoe pop out at the end of his wand whenever he passed Harley, which was often. It was cutesy and ridiculous, but Harley loved it.

“The next time you do that in front of me, I will snap his wand,” Severus complained. He was sitting at a table with Molly, Bill, and Fleur when Harley and her fiance walked in. “It is one thing to be happy: it is another to make the whole house nauseous.”

Harley laughed and they sat down with them, Harley helping Molly snap open green beans for the casserole.

“So, ‘Arley, when weel you and Fred be geeting married?” Fleur asked.

“Not until this is all over,” Fred replied for her. “And anyway, we wouldn’t want to take away from your wedding.”

“Well, don’t take too long to plan,” Molly warned. “The Delacours’ are paying for this wedding, mostly, but we’ll need to budget yours, Freddie. My God, two of my boys are getting married!”

Just as Harley was about to say she had more than enough money in the bank to pay for a wedding, Severus spoke up.

“No need to worry about a budget. Their wedding will be paid for. Any venue, anything they want.”

Fred and Harley stared at each other, shocked.

“Professor, there’s no way we can expect you to do that,” Fred said.

“I agree, it is a kind and unexpected gesture, but it isn’t your job to do this,” Molly broke in, flustered.

Severus shook his head. “Nonsense. It is traditional for the bride’s family to pay for a wedding, and since I highly doubt the Dursleys will be very willing, I am happy to do it. I am the closest thing Harley has to family.”

Harley felt choked up. She had never thought about having a father paying for her wedding, she had barely been able to grasp the fact that she had a father to walk her down the aisle. “You don’t know what that means to me. Thank you.”

They had a quiet, sombre dinner, trying their best to bring any kind of cheer. Molly put on the radio, and forced them to listen to some terrible Wizarding singer, Celestina Warbeck.

“We are not playing that at our wedding,” Harley told Fred.

“Really? I was thinking you could walk down the aisle to it,” Fred replied.

“If that song is anywhere near the ceremony, I will rescind my offer,” Severus said.

Harley did not stay the night for Boxing Day, instead she left with her father, and they walked the moors near the Burrow before they went home. Snow was falling lightly, illuminating their dark figures in the moonlight.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked abruptly.

“Enjoy what?” Harley asked.

Her father sighed. “Do not play dumb with me. What you did to Alicia Spinnet. Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I felt...lighter. And I did not attack unprovoked: she challenged me, brandished her wand first.”

Severus nodded. “I understand. I know how you felt. Come, let us go home. Spend the rest of our first Christmas as a family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, in the Wizarding World, nothing is what it seems...


	33. Cruciatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley has to meet with an informant for the Dark Lord, but things don't go as simply as she'd thought and now she must face the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly as the title implies, Harley gets her first taste of the Cruciatus Curse.  
> Trigger warning: torture.

On New Year’s Day, Severus entered Harley’s shop just as she was closing.

“Father, I thought you were back at Hogwarts to look after the students still in residence,” Harley said. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” he replied, but he looked anything but happy. “I thought, being so young, the Dark Lord wouldn’t want you to do very much, but apparently your age is beneficial to him. He wants a report from one of his informants working at the Ministry tonight.” He handed her a scrap of parchment. “That’s where he will meet you once you finish closing up. Meet me at Spinner’s End when you’re done and we’ll go to the manor together.”

She nodded. “You think I’m inconspicuous? I stick out quite a bit in everyday situations.”

“Not in London you won’t,” Severus replied. “And anyway, this is safe enough. Lord knows you can get information almost as well as I can.”

She nodded. “I learned from the best.” She shut her register and went for her cloak, telling her father goodbye and heading over to London via Apparition.

Harley wasn’t sure she’d be as inconspicuous outside the Ministry as the Dark Lord thought. Alone if Arthur Weasley saw her, or Tonks or Moody! It could spell disaster for her and for Dumbledore’s plan.

She was to meet an inside informant outside of a specific telephone booth. Unfortunately, that was the busiest booth in all of London, so her chances of being questioned went up exponentially. If she was questioned, she’d say she was looking for information on how to patent a new potion. Plausible enough.

The Dark Lord required a report from the man, and the informant couldn’t be seen anywhere near Malfoy Manor. Harley was still the most inconspicuous-looking member of the Death Eaters, so she was chosen quickly. Severus was just glad that this wasn’t something that could possibly get her killed. Harley just wanted to be inside: it was beginning to snow.

Finally, she saw someone approaching her secluded corner and she stood at attention, gripping her wand in her pocket just in case.

When the wizard was a few feet away from her, she realised she might need to use her wand: his eyes were wide and angry, bloodshot, and his face was set in a growly grimace that wouldn’t be out of place on a rabid dog.

“Stop right there,” she said. The man kept coming. She glanced around herself uneasily. If she used magic here, she ran the risk of a Muggle noticing and getting her wand snapped. “Hey, are you hard of hearing? Stop where you stand!”

He man hurried forward instead, and Harley thought that all that was missing was his foaming at the mouth to complete his look of madness.

Before she could cast any spell, the man was on her, not using magic but tearing at her with his hands and teeth. Unlike others in the Wizarding World, Harley knew a lot about Muggle self-defence, and kicked the man off of her.

She got to her feet and pulled out her wand. “Stupefy!”

The man fell back but bounded right back up, ignoring the wound in his head from hitting it against the brick wall. He came for Harley again, dodging her second spell and knocking her into the wall, tearing at and through her coat sleeve, tearing his nails down her flesh and bringing up blood.

She managed to get him off her again, freeing her now bloody wand arm. “Sectums--”

He didn't let her finish her curse as he body-slammed her against the wall, bumping her head and tearing at her face with his nails and teeth.

She let out a scream of pain, but this time completed her curse, watching as his body was immediately cut to bloody ribbons in nonlethal places. She wanted him alive so she could figure out what had happened to him.

With a crack, he Apparated away, leaving behind a puddle of blood.

 

****

 

“What was wrong with him?” Severus asked, brushing a potion on Harley’s neck. Her face would have to show some of the scarring: the potion ingredients couldn’t go near her eye or she’d risk being blind in one eye.

“I am not sure,” Harley replied. “He looked positively mad, but I don’t think he was doing it of his own accord. Perhaps not Imperius, because he wasn’t as dazed as he should have been, but a spell or a potion, maybe.”

“There are a few potions that could make a person violent. I taught you one last year,” he said. “If only he hadn’t Disapparated, I could have tested his blood.” He made one final wave of his wand and most of her wounds were healed.

“And he’ll have a lot of blood,” Harley said, Scourgifying her clothes. “Unfortunately, none of it spilled on me.”

Severus scoffed. “And here we thought you being seen would be the worst thing that happened today. ...There, you’re good as new, and just in time. We need to be at Malfoy Manor.”

Harley bit her lip and nodded. She didn’t want to say, but she was afraid of what the Dark Lord would do to her when she turned up empty at the meeting. Never mind the informant was in no shape to talk, he wouldn’t see it that way. She just hoped he’d go to his standard of Cruciatus, because her father had taught her how to turn her mind away from the pain.

“You might be hiding your mind from me, little girl, but I know you’re concerned,” Severus said. “He will be mad, but I believe he has more to think about than just one report.”

_ I want to believe you, but something tells me it will be worse than you think _ , she thought as she Apparated with him outside the manor. As always, nothing about her face or mein showed her fear, but her heart was stuttering in her chest.

_ This is wrong _ , she thought.  _ No one should fear their prospective leader. This is not the way we should be doing things! _

Inside the manor, she was surprised to see Draco sitting there. “They let you out of Hogwarts?” she asked him.

“Not quite. ...What happened to your face?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing. What happened to yours?” she snapped irritably, her nerves getting the better of her tongue. It looked like her Evans side was showing a bit too much this evening.

Bellatrix, seated in her usual spot across from Severus, was smirking. Harley suddenly knew what had happened: Bella had done something to the informant to make him attack her, thus resulting in her being unable to complete the mission. With no proof, she could hardly make an accusation, but deep down she knew that’s what had happened.

Before she could loose her tongue again, the Dark Lord entered the room. All of the Death Eaters bowed to him and he then began the meeting, which was simply to gain reports on each one of their latest exploits.

Harley sat through accounts of Muggle murders, Muggle-born torture, and pureblood intimidation, each account making her feel more ill. Only Draco’s was uplifting, talking about the extra security Hogwarts had.

“But I’ve nearly fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, so as soon as it’s done, I’ll owl,” he promised. Harley thought he didn’t look very happy about it.

“Excellent. Severus?” Those red eyes turned to her father.

“All I can do is ensure that no one enters the Room of Requirement, at which I have thus far been successful, my lord,” Severus replied. “I cannot utilise my position as the Dark Arts professor to teach them our ways so soon without jeopardising my undercover role.”

“Understandable. Miss Snape…”

“Yes, my lord?”

“My informant injured you?” Voldemort seemed surprised as he asked the question.

“Yes, my lord. I waited at the booth as instructed, and when he arrived he was like a mad animal. He was hexed, of that I am sure,” Harley replied.

The villain’s eyes narrowed, more serpentine than ever. “And you did not get the update I requested?”

“No, my lord. I do not even believe he was capable of speaking. He didn’t even use his wand, he used his hands and teeth to hurt me. He couldn’t utter a single thing,” she explained. Her palms were beginning to sweat with nerves. “I didn’t hurt him in a way that can’t be repaired. If the hex wears off, he will recover and be able to continue his role for you.”

Voldemort was silent, and the silence was deafening. Everyone was watching, holding their breaths to see what he said or did.

“It is very hard for me to believe that the daughter of Severus Snape failed such a simple mission,” he said. “And despite Severus’ allegiance to me, I cannot allow such a failure to go unpunished.”

More silence, and a smile from Bellatrix.

“Stand, away from the table a bit,” Voldemort commanded.

Every fibre of her being called out in protest as she did as he asked, every eye in the room on her, except for her father, who was steadfastly staring at his hands on the table. She didn’t blame him. If he was watching as well, she’d probably break down.

“What you did is not, I admit, an obstacle we cannot overcome, but I must insist on our newest members understanding that failure is not an option here.” He glanced around the table. “Ordinarily, this would be Bellatrix’s job.” The witch beamed. “But I will save that for the day you fail even more spectacularly than you already have. This does not require my personal attention so closely.” Again, he looked around the table.

_ Is he going to make Draco do it? If he does, not only will it break the kid’s mind, he won’t be able to conjure up the hate necessary to hurt me. We’ll both be in deep shit then _ , Harley thought.

“You were not raised in a Wizarding household. You never received proper teaching of behaviour or admonishment for any childhood wrongs committed. Perhaps you should speak to Draco about it.”

Harley looked over at her former classmate, at whom Lucius was smiling sadistically. She felt sick, knowing what admonishment probably meant in the Malfoy household: pain, and lots of it. Draco met her eyes across the room and looked frightened for her.

“Severus.”

At being directly addressed, Severus looked up at the Dark Lord.

“If not Bella, I would utilise the Carrows. But still, I don’t believe that your daughter would benefit from that. If your history is anything to go by, it would only annoy her. I have decided: it is your duty as her father to teach her this lesson.”

If Harley had thought the room was silent before, she was wrong. No one even seemed to breathe after that, including her.

“My lord, with all due respect, I do not believe I am the best person--”

“Silence, Severus,” Voldemort snapped. “Do as I ask, or I will personally torture you both.”

_ Don’t protest any more _ , Harley thought, her panic rising.  _ Don’t make me be the reason this whole thing is botched. _ Her heart was hammering in her chest. Was Voldemort really going to make this happen? Then again, what did she expect from a dictator? The Muggles had Hitler. The Wizarding World had Voldemort.

“Get up, Severus,” he said, his voice laced with menace.

Harley worried that her father was going to defy, and lose his life because of it. It was only a moment of concern, though, as he stood up slowly. She knew he would hate this, she knew he’d want to tear that red-eyed bastard apart, but she also knew that he wouldn’t. And, if she was being honest, neither would she if their positions were reversed. It was why they were the only two suitable for this type of mission: they knew that they’d have to do things they didn’t want to in order to keep cover, and they were both the only ones smart, strong, and brave enough to do them in the name of the Light.

Her father walked towards her, standing just a couple of feet away. Harley leaned her back against the cold stone wall, feeling dreadful resignation. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. Of course, how could he? Despite what his students thought, he was no monster.

He’d taught her how not to feel the worst of the pain, how Occlumency did much more than hide her thoughts: it also effectively closed the pain receptors in the brain to the effects of Cruciatus.

“Close your eyes,” her father commanded, still not quite looking at her. She did as he asked, every hair on her body standing on end from fear.

_ Control _ , she thought to herself.  _ You know he wants to do this even less than you. Keep your control and it will all be over soon. _

After a beat of tense silence, she heard him utter the curse, At that moment, a burning pain shot through her every nerve ending, even her fingertips ached. She couldn’t remain standing and slid down the wall till she hit the floor, panting from the pain but surprised that her training had worked. That wasn’t so bad, not like she’d seen in DADA class when the disguised Barty Crouch Jr. had demonstrated it on a spider.

She thought it was over, and evidently Severus did as well, because she heard the Dark Lord cluck his tongue.

“Severus, don’t be a fool. You know I will not let either of you go so easily. That taught her nothing. Again.”

She’d been about to stand when Severus cast the curse again, the pain sending her down hard on her tailbone as her muscles contracted. This was worse than before, because she’d started to let down her defences. And to think, Alicia had felt this even worse. Harley suddenly regretted her torture of the witch, and vowed to never use this curse again unless it was on another Death Eater. It was taking all her strength not to scream as she gripped herself tightly to ease the pain.

Finally, she felt it fade, leaving nothing but a dull ache in her bones.

“Again,” the Dark Lord hissed. It sounded to Harley like he was enjoying this, the sick bastard.

_ Please no _ , she thought, fighting back tears. Of course, to beg would only please the sadistic wizard more, so she kept her mouth shut.

She heard the hesitance and distress in her father’s voice as he cast the curse a third time and she felt her heart break. How difficult must it be for him, if this was how bad she felt?

Pain ripped through her, making her body contort against her will. Unable to sit up, she lay on the cold stone floor, the clammy coldness of the manor seeping through her dress and cloak to make her bones hurt even more. She heard herself whimpering as she tried to dig her nails into the stone, breaking a few of them off. Tears fell from her eyes, wrung out by the burning in her flesh and the throbbing in her joints.

She was unable to get up when the curse wore off, and thought for certain she must be hearing things when Voldemort said, “Once more.”

“My lord, you can clearly see that she has more than learnt her lesson!” Severus protested.

“That is for me to decide, Severus,” Voldemort said. “Once more should suffice, and if you do not do it,  _ I _ will.”

Her father sighed, his exhale coming out shakily.

Harley was beyond even trying to block the pain when the curse was cast upon her for the fourth time. Pain tore down her spine, her legs felt numb but that was a small blessing. She arched her back and hated herself as she screamed from the pain, crying harder but still silently, too much like her father even in pain to sob openly.

The curse wore off again, but her body was stinging with the pain, like her bones had been pounded with a hammer and her skin was being pricked with thousands of tiny needles. She was too weak to get off the floor or even sit up, and her face flamed at the thought that every Death Eater was seeing her like this. The only upside was that she was certain that she was not the only one to be tortured and humiliated like this in front of everyone.

The room was still silent, the only sound now her father’s hurried footfalls as he bent down at her side. “I am taking her home,” he said, his voice daring anyone, even the Dark Lord, to make an objection.

“By all means, do. You can continue when she is a bit more malleable,” Voldemort said.

Her father took her hand, that small touch awakening the fire in her nerves. She felt the pull and disorientation of Apparition, and the moment they landed at Spinner’s End, she promptly passed out.

 

****

 

The first thing she noticed upon waking was that her bones ached. The second thing was that she was in her bedroom at Spinner’s End. The third was that it was daylight. How long had she been passed out? Her mind was fuzzy, but as she sat up, the pain was so severe she bit her tongue in her effort not to scream.

That pain brought back the memories of the previous night, and she began to cry openly, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. How could Voldemort have ordered her father to do that? How could Dumbledore have put them both in a position like that? The two men were opposite sides of the same coin, divided by a very thin line, and things like this made her realise that more and more.

Her crying must have alerted her father, and she saw him open her bedroom door, a potion bottle in one hand. His face was inscrutable to most, but she could see the pain lying beneath the thin surface facade.

Silently, he placed the bottle on her nightstand.

“Cruciatus Cure,” he said, his voice hoarse as if he had been crying as well. “It will ease the pain. Half the bottle now, and half when it returns.”

“Thank you.” She took it and quickly drank half the contents, uncaring about the medicinal taste as the potion began its work, bringing a cooling relief to her burning muscles. Her father was still at her bedside, stoically looking at the wall where an old poster of his was still hanging: Stevie Nicks, a witch who masqueraded as a Muggle musician and made millions.

She reached out and brushed his hand with hers, the touch startling him as he moved away from her as if she had attempted to strike him. It didn’t take a Legilimens to realise why he did so: he didn’t want to touch her after the events of the previous evening, out of shame or guilt or a combination of both.

“Father,” she said, feeling weak now that the pain was lessened. “Father, please.” She reached for his hand again.

He turned so she couldn’t reach him, looking at her at last. His dark eyes sparkled with unshed tears, more emotion on his face than she had ever seen. “No, Harley, as soon as you’re better you’re to leave, go back to your flat. Immediately. And you’re not to return here.”

He was kicking her out? “But why? I don’t understand, did I do something whilst I was out of it? Was it something I did yesterday?”

Severus scoffed. “You silly little girl, don’t you understand? This is the reason I never told you who I was--to spare you from all of this! This is why I tried to keep you at arm’s length, so that you would never be hurt. Now you are, and I am the one who hurt you.”

“It’s not as if you wanted to,” Harley contradicted. “If I thought you enjoyed that, don’t you think I would have hexed you in return, Dark Lord be damned?”

She stared up at him, perfectly at odds: his Slytherin patience warring with her Gryffindor stubbornness. They could likely drag this out for the entire day.

“I was never fit to be a father,” he said, lowering his voice. “You were fortunate to not have been raised by me as a child: I would have damaged you much further than this. Do as I say and go away, far from me. Because I am just as awful as everyone always told you I was.”

“They’re wrong...you’re wrong,” Harley said. “Everything you’ve done has been for Mum, everything that hurt you, everything that made you as cold as you like to claim to be, it’s all been for her.”

“Yes, after I got her killed!” His anger was so strong, she felt the magic crackle in the air like static electricity. “I didn’t deserve her, and I certainly don’t deserve you.” He stood there in the doorway, hand gripping the doorjamb.

“Can I tell you something?” Harley asked quietly, forcing him to keep looking at her. “When I found out from the Hat that my father was alive, somewhere, I began to wonder what he was like. Of course I was afraid, everyone thought he must be Dark if I was so drawn to the Dark myself. But another part of me, a more childish part, I suppose...it began to construct someone like me in my head, someone I could talk to, who could understand me. Someone out there who wouldn’t make me feel so alone.

“In fifth year, when I knew I was absolutely nothing like Mum except in the face, I longed even more to know the man who gave me...everything. Who made me who I am. And then you told me about the Mirror Of Erised, that it wouldn’t show me who my father was, but only who I wanted him to be. And I realised, sitting in class after that, that the only person I would see in there would have been you.”

His eyes widened, but she wasn’t done.

“What happened yesterday was terrible, and it will haunt my nightmares for some time to come, but it wasn’t your fault. I tried blaming Dumbledore, but it wasn’t his fault, either. No one is to blame but the Dark Lord.”

He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how I felt? To see and hear my little girl in pain and not only be unable to stop it, but to know that I was the one causing it?”

“No, I can’t, Father. And I don’t want to. I know your heart must ache, but if you push me away what then?” She was trembling, tears beginning to fall. “I always respected you, always looked up to you when I was your student. Please don’t push me away as your daughter.”

She forced herself to move her numb-yet-aching muscles to get out of the bed, feeling like Colin Craven in  _ The Secret Garden _ . As she went to stand and walk to him, her legs decided to give out, sending her to the floor in a puddle of duvet.

Severus was at her side in an instant, picking her up and placing her back in bed. She wrapped her arms around him and refused to let go, burying her face in his neck as she cried openly.

“Please don’t let Voldemort take any more from us,” she whispered.

Her father hugged her harder and said, “I won’t. I promise.”


	34. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore has a secret that makes Harley wonder if his death would really be so bad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post! Last week just got crazy busy. Here is a chapter I have edited and re-edited. I never liked Dumbledore, so this is my way of giving him the scolding he deserved when he was alive, among other things. Enjoy! xoxo

Harley heard via owl about how the poisoned mead meant for Dumbledore (poisoned by Draco; she had sold the brown widow spider venom to Amycus Carrow before Christmas) had nearly killed Ron. Harry wrote that it was the Prince’s textbook note of shoving a bezoar down a poisoned person’s throat that saved Ron.

One afternoon, she received a very unlikely caller at The Potion Master: Albus Dumbledore. Straightening up, she greeted him, noticing how strained he appeared. The curse was progressing quickly.

“What can I do for you, Professor?”

“I needed to speak with you about your role after what will happen to me. Severus is the only person I trust to do what is needed for me, and for Hogwarts. I have everything planned fairly well, I should like to think, and your role will be to monitor Hogwarts once Severus is made headmaster after I am gone.”

Harley spluttered, “Headmaster? How--”

“Once I am gone, I can safely assume the Death Eaters will feel safer about infiltrating not just the Ministry, but the school as well. With Severus and you there, you can keep the students from being injured or tormented too much.” The old man sighed, examining his blackened hand. “It is not how I wanted things to turn out but it is for the best.”

He went on to explain to her about the horcruxes, and a little more. Not as much as he told Severus, she would one day find out, but much more than he was ever going to tell Harry.

Harley knew what it was she was needed to do, but there was also something that needed to be said, and she would not let him leave till she’d said it.

“I respect you as a brilliant wizard, sir, and I think you are one of the few people who understand that sometimes you have to do what is difficult, only because it is what will be better off for everyone in the end. However, I think it is rotten how you have used and are using my father and his love for my mum. My father is a kind, brilliant man, and you are making him into a common villain. It is not fair to him, and I will never forgive you for that.”

“Nor should you,” Dumbledore told her. “He is your father, and you love him. I can tell you that I do not like it, either.”

“That is not going to mean much when you are dead and my father is shunned by the Order with no one to vouch for him but me...and I will be unable to.” Harley stood up, signalling that the conversation was over. He did not take the hint.

“Harley, I should tell you the truth,” Dumbledore said, heaving a sigh. “I knew about you. Your mother was in the Order, and I saw how she and James were not always getting along, or getting along too well. I admit I had no idea about the love potion until after their deaths, from Severus. If I had, I would have put a stop to it.

“I am sure you wondered how I, the greatest wizard alive, could not have been aware of who you were. I did know. I knew the moment I saw Lily pregnant with you. I wondered why she Concealed you, but it was not my place to ask. However, I did know you were not James’, even before you were born, and certainly after.”

Harley felt ill. “You--you knew? The whole time, after Father turned over to our side, before I had been adopted by bloody Muggles, and I spent my entire life separated from the only family I had in the world, you knew it all and let it pass? How  _ dare  _ you? You meddle in everyone’s lives, you put my father in servitude out of his guilt over Mum, you’re letting Harry be led to fucking slaughter, you let me be alone all my life! You’re forcing my father to kill you, to ostracise himself from the Light. All this time I could have been with my father, my brother. Things could have been so different, and they played out this way all because of you!”

Dumbledore held his hands up in a pleading gesture. “I know you’re upset, Harley--”

“Oh, no, I  _ was  _ upset. Right now I am so furious there are no words to describe it! It was not your place to keep me hidden from my father!”

“It was your mother’s wish,” Dumbledore said.

“It was my mother’s wish that I would know my father!” Harley cried, angry tears making tracks on her face. “You could have told him long before I was Concealed! And then you had the nerve to make me wait to know him until I was eighteen! Another four years wasted! I understand why  _ he  _ didn’t tell me, but you? You, who knew the very best of my father, kept me from him when he was right under my nose; teasing me with all your cryptic talk!”

Dumbledore looked at her with sad, red-rimmed eyes. “I did what I thought was right.”

“You did what you wanted without any regard for anyone else, just like you always have and always will--until you make Father murder you, that is. Manipulating everyone like chess pieces, right up to the very end.” Harley stalked to the doorway and held it open. “Get. Out.”

“Harley--”

“I said get out!”

Dumbledore left, leaving her in an angry, hurt muddle for the rest of the evening.

Late that same night, Harley was sitting at her window, reading a novel, when there was a rush of Hogsmeade residents rushing onto High Street, all looking in the direction of Hogwarts. Just as she was going to go down and see what was happening, an owl flew into her window.

Opening the letter, from her father, it read, “Come to the school now. Wear your mask. I am afraid Draco and the others might need a level head with them till I arrive.”

She paused as she went to do as was asked. Originally, she wasn’t supposed to be there when Dumbledore was killed in case any students saw her. But if her father was worried about Draco and the Death Eaters coming through the Cabinet taking things too far, she wasn’t going to hesitate.

She could walk to Hogwarts, or she could Apparate to Knockturn Alley and get in the Cabinet with the others. If she took the Hogwarts route, it would look suspicious, so Borgin and Burke’s it was then.

With a crack, she appeared outside of the creepy little store, startling Bellatrix who was leading the small group of Death Eaters, which included werewolf Fenrir Greyback.

Harley’s hand itched to hex the beast who had turned her godfather, but her sense of purpose stopped her. If she screwed up now, everything was ruined.

“What are you doing here, Snape?” Bellatrix hissed.

“What? You thought I would miss watching the old man get his just desserts? Hardly.” She smirked, lowering her mask. “This will be the most fun I’ve had all day.”

Dolohov looked around and said, “Is this everyone?”

“With one extra,” Bellatrix said, sneering at Harley. She was the only one aside from Greyback who wasn’t wearing a mask. She liked it when people knew who was torturing them.

Getting into the cabinet, Harley said, “Do not forget that this is  _ Draco’s  _ mission. He needs encouragement, but not assistance unless Dumbledore and the Order fight back.”

“Who died and made you leader, princess?” Greyback growled angrily, pushing her aside to get into the Cabinet.

Once everyone appeared in the Room of Requirement, Harley let Bellatrix lead them through the school and up to one of the entrances to the Astronomy Tower, where Draco should have been already.

And he was there, facing down Dumbledore. The man looked like he had been through Hell and back since Harley had seen him that afternoon. Draco Disarmed the headmaster, but then appeared to hesitate as the Death Eaters came up behind him.

“Excellent job so far, Draco,” Bellatrix purred in her nephew’s ear. “Now finish it!”

But Draco was trembling, hesitant. Harley knew this boy, she knew he was no killer, no matter how tough he wanted to act. His inner turmoil was almost tangible.

Dumbledore tried talking him down from the ledge, keeping his wand stilled until Severus could arrive, and Harley decided that he could use some backup.

She yanked at Draco’s sleeve and hissed, “That Vow was not made so you could stand there and whinge, Malfoy.”

He looked back at her, silver eyes wide, and shook his head.

“Do not wag your head as though you’re addlepated. We all have had tasks to complete: now it is your turn.” She shoved his arm, spinning him to face Dumbledore again. He stumbled a bit, but his wand was back to pointing at the headmaster.

“Come on, do it!” Bellatrix cried.

“No.”

Everyone turned to see Severus appear from below the tower’s level, that one word a command that silenced even Bellatrix, his very presence larger than life, radiating power and confidence. It was the same thing Harley had admired the first time she’d ever met him.

His cold black eyes swept over them all and he said, “Stand down, Draco.”

Draco stepped backwards, so close to Harley that she could feel him shaking. Everyone watched as Severus stood in front of them, wan aloft and eyes locked with Dumbledore’s. While he didn’t whine or tremble like Draco, Harley saw his hesitance, saw the regret in his eyes and the subtle pleading with Dumbledore to not make him to do this. To not taint his soul any further.

Dumbledore looked sombrely at Severus and said in a quiet voice, “Severus...please.”

To many that would have sounded like a plea to stop, but Harley and her father knew that it was a plea for death instead.

Another moment of hesitation passed before Severus waved his wand in a zigzag pattern and said, “ _ Avada kedavra _ .” A jet of green light shot from the wand, hitting the headmaster and knocking his body clear off the Tower. Without a glance back at the body of his former boss and friend, Severus turned to the small group and said, “Go. Now.”

He gave Draco a small push to get the boy going and he and his daughter led the group to the quickest exit. Filch was standing in one of the doorways, frozen in fear at the sight of them all, and Harley couldn’t help her laughter as Severus sent him flying backwards with one careless flick of his wand.

Bellatrix proceeded to begin destroying the Great Hall until Severus snapped at her, “This is not a game, Bella. Quit being so childish and _ get down _ from there.”

They made it to the grounds before anyone caught up with them. Of course, it had to be the one person Harley had hoped would be asleep and out of trouble for once: her brother. He was in shock, his grief manifesting as anger.

He screamed her father’s name, but the only Death Eater to pay any attention to him was Bellatrix, who fired a Stunning Spell.

“No!” Severus said, venom dripping in the one word. “He belongs to the Dark Lord.”

Bellatrix pouted, but consoled herself with setting Hagrid’s hut ablaze. At least it had been empty.

Harry wasn’t finished, however. He fired more hexes at Severus’ back, all of which he deflected easily.

“Fight back!” Harry cried. “Fight back you coward!”

Haley sent a stinging hex at him, knocking him back but not out.

Harry kept sending spells at Severus, but the former Potions Master only responded when he used the Bleeding Curse.

Severus stalked over Harry, who was now flat on his back from the power of the Blocking Spell Severus had used and hissed, “You dare use my own spells against me, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes widened behind his spectacles.

“Yes, it was I who invented them. ...I’m the Half-Blood Prince.”

With Harry in shock, they were all able to escape to a place where they could successfully Apparate away from the scene of the murder.

For Harley’s direction, she went back to her flat and broke down once again, this time not for herself but for her father, who had sacrificed his freedom and his good standing, all for the love of Lily Evans. He had been brave, noble, and wise. She hoped she could take his place in the Order and maintain contact with the Death Eaters.

 

****

 

It was not until June that Harley was called to an Order meeting at the Burrow. She had not seen her father in over a month, and had only dealt with Death Eaters as they came to her shop, wanting various Dark items she sold to them gladly. She missed her father terribly, but at least she knew that he was well.

She hadn’t seen many others, either, having skipped Dumbledore’s funeral. As he said, killing is not so easy as the innocent believe, and being an accomplice to his murder, strategic move or not, made her feel too ashamed to attend the funeral.

Harley Apparated to The Burrow, only to be accosted by Bill Weasley, who was brandishing his wand at her chest. Momentarily, she feared that they had found out she was a Snape, but he simply asked, “Where did Fred Weasley give Harley Torrance her first kiss on the lips?”

It was a test to be sure she was who she claimed to be, and not a polyjuiced enemy. “Outside of a fast food restaurant in Surrey, after I broke the jaw of my old Muggle enemy.”

Bill lowered his wand and let her into the house. She was one of the last to arrive.

“What a bloody welcome!” she said, sitting down next to Fred. “Give a girl some warning next time.” Settling herself comfortably next to him, she said, “So, what are we talking about today?”

“What to do with moving Harry out of his aunt’s house,” Moody said.

“I thought you were moving him on his birthday?” Harley asked. “Because of the Charm wearing off?”

Moody shook his head, and his magical eye bore into her, making her want to hide her left arm. She wondered if his eye could see through the fabric to the Mark burned onto her skin? “We can’t take that risk. They will be expecting that, especially Snape. We need to move him sooner, to keep them on their toes.”

Harley nodded, committing everything said to memory. The meeting was short, and it ended with them wanting to reconvene in one week, to decide on an exact day and a way to hide Harry.

Lupin pulled her aside once the meeting was adjourned.

“How are you?” he asked her.

She shrugged, not expecting him to have wanted to talk with her. “As well as to be expected, Remus.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes nervously. “Look, this is why we all said that you’d be better off not knowing about Snape. But Dumbledore insisted. How Dark could he be to have fooled Dumbledore?”

Harley bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding. No one could know the truth, lest that information be read via Legilimency or tortured out of them.

“Dumbledore likes to believe the best in everyone,” was all she said.

“I have to ask...you were with him nearly constantly the past few months. Did you have any idea, any inkling of what he was going to do?” Lupin asked.

She shook her head. “We weren’t together  _ constantly _ . I had my part to play, and that meant staying at my shop as long as I could. He was still teaching at Hogwarts. We were lucky to see each other once a week.”

“And you? What are you going to do?” Lupin asked.

Harley scoffed. “Are you asking me if I am defecting, Remus? You are unbelievable! With Dumbledore dead, we have no guidance, no plan. I have to play everything by ear and by instinct. My father...he believes I am on his side. I’m in more danger now than I ever was, and you have the nerve to question my loyalties yet again.”

At least he had the grace to look ashamed. “I can imagine what you feel, finding your family and then having this happen. It’s enough to warp anyone’s mind.”

“You underestimate me,” she replied. “It’s not as if we had a lot of time to be a family. What happened did hurt, but I’ll be fine.”

They stood there for a moment, Remus unsure of what to say and Harley just wanting to go home.

“Did he ask you to stay, or has he simply assumed?”

“Assumed.”

“This is why I was glad we kept your relation to him from everyone else, and still have. Frankly, I’m not comfortable being the only one who knows you’re still a double agent, but if they all knew, it might make things awkward to say the least.”

She chuckled. “They all thought I was Dark anyway, what would be the difference? What they and you have never quite been able to grasp is that this war--this world--is not black and white like you think. We’re all shades of grey, each and every one of us. Some are just darker than others.”

With that, she took her leave of him.

Fred walked Harley out and asked if she wanted to go to dinner.

“Not tonight. I have somewhere to be--for the shop. How about tomorrow? I can close up early, cook something in my flat, and we can have a romantic lie-in that night and all day Sunday,” she suggested.

“Sounds like a plan. ...Harley?”

“Hm?”

Fred was looking at the ground, the trees, everywhere but at her. “I know you cared for him--Snape--and I’m really sorry about what happened. I wish that all of us hadn't been right, just for your sake, not even Dumbledore’s.”

Harley took Fred’s hand in hers, feeling terrible about all the lies she had to tell. “You are so sweet. I really do not deserve you. It is all right: I’m fine. And I really must be going.” She leaned in for a kiss and then Apparated, appearing outside of Spinner’s End. She felt better just at the sight of the house, knowing as she did that Fred need not have apologised: he had no idea what a hero Severus Snape really was.

Unlocking the front door, she called out a hello. Due to her still being in the Order, she had to see her father sparingly, and had not been near him at all in case she was seen either here or at Malfoy Manor. Now she had news, and she needed to relay it to him, so they could decide what to do about giving it to Voldemort.

“Harley.” She had not thought it possible for his eyes to be so warm as they settled on her. “Been some time, my dear.”

She sat down next to him, head on his shoulder. “I cannot wait for this to be over.”

“Nor can I. I assume you have information?’

Harley nodded, not moving. “They want to move Harry sooner than expected. We’re deciding on a date and plan next week. I know the Dark Lord thinks he will be moved on his birthday. Do we tell him or not?”

Severus sighed, closing his eyes. “Yes. We have to. He will think it odd if I do not have such easy information. Have they decided how they are to hide Potter yet?”

“Not yet. I was thinking we could polyjuice him into some random Muggle,” Harley suggested.

Severus shook his head. “No. Dumbledore had an idea, and I promised I’d use it: are you and the Order both still working with Fletcher?”

Harley nodded. “He loves money so much I didn't even have to Imperius him to make him keep quiet.”

Severus nodded. “Good. Tell me once you have the date and tell Fletcher to meet you early at your shop tomorrow. I will be there to hopefully get Potter out of the transfer alive. That old bloke had better have given me a good plan, because so far his ideas have been half-arsed.” He stood up, offering her a glass of liquor, which she accepted, along with an offer to stay for dinner.

“So, I have been meaning to ask, why did you let the Dark Lord keep the Vanishing Cabinet at Borgin and Burke’s? I thought he could not trust them,” Harley asked.

Severus smirked. “I convinced him it would be better and less conspicuous than having Death Eaters traipsing through Hogsmeade.” He reached across the kitchen table and gently put his hand on her face. “The less you have to deal with them, the better I will feel. I don’t care how old you are, or how powerful: you’re my little girl, and I will do anything to keep you safe.”

“Thank you,” was all she seemed able to say, warmed by words she still did not expect to hear from him.

“You need to learn Occlumency,” he said as they were eating. “The Dark Lord is a more talented Legilimens than I am, and if there is a chance he can see inside your mind…”

Harley nodded. “I understand. When do we start?”

“Tonight, and every night you are possibly free. I can safely assume you will do a much better job than your brother.” He gave a wry smile and she laughed.

“I can assure you that you’re right, Father.”

She knew that he knew well that she should not be there longer than necessary, in case anyone from the Order found out, but she did not criticise him on his recklessness. She had spent most of her life without him, and she wanted to spend as much time with him as she could.

The next day she owled Fletcher to come to her shop, which happened a few times since he had become her start-up supplier for the Dark Arts artifacts.

“What can I do for you, Miss Snape?” he asked sarcastically, leaning against her counter.

“It is not  _ me  _ you can do something for,” she said coldly. “It is my father.”

Fletcher’s face drained of colour and he went to run out of the store when Harley pointed her wand at him and said, “ _ Locomotor mortis _ .” He stood right where he was, and Harley closed her shades by magic, darkening the store.

A moment later, Severus Apparated into her store and greeted her. “What happened to your guest?”

“His fear made his legs move of their own accord. I fixed it.” She smirked. “Now, let us hurry: I invited Fred here this evening.”

She watched as Severus made quick work of Confunding the little wizard, telling him a detailed plan on how to get Harry away from Privet Drive safely. It was unnecessarily complicated, and Harley knew that only Dumbledore would ever come up with craziness like that, when there were simpler things to do.

He sent Fletcher away and then cast  _ Muffliato  _ on the shop. “I picked the day we are infiltrating the Ministry...well, not we, as in you included. We as in the Death Eaters. The same day as Bill’s wedding, so that you can be sure to help get everyone out of there.”

She nodded. “I wish there was some way you can stop this.”

“Believe me, so do I. Now you need to cancel on Fred, or tell him to come by later. You are required to be at the Manor with me.”

Sighing, she left Fred a note that she was called away to pick up supplies due to an injured supplier, and she would be in late, so he could wait for her if he wanted.

In the Manor, they were the last to arrive, yet again. This time, there was a person suspended over the table by magic, and Harley stopped short. The woman looked familiar, but she could not place her.

Taking their seats, Severus told the Dark Lord about moving Potter on a different day, but not about the polyjuice potion everyone would be taking. “My informant inside the Order will let me know in six days when they plan on moving him.”

“Wonderful, Severus,” Voldemort said, his masklike face twisting into what could be misconstrued as a smile. Harley despised him with a passion she had never known. He had robbed her of her mother, robbed Harry of both his parents, and had taken away the only person Severus Snape had ever loved. He shed blood for no reason other than bigotry and superiority, and he deserved to suffer long and hard before dying a slow, painful death.

It was a wonder that neither she nor her father had leapt across the table and used the Killing Curse by now. It showed testament to Severus’s acting skills, that he could pretend to be an ally to this monster for so many years.

The Dark Lord began a tirade against Muggles and Muggle-borns, and it wasn’t until halfway through that Harley recognised the woman suspended above the table: the Muggle Studies teacher. Hermione loved her, but Harley had stayed far away from her classroom. She’d had enough of Muggles by the time she was fourteen, and she did not even know this professor’s name. It would not be for a while that she would even hear it again: Charity Burbage.

The professor was slowly spinning around the table, letting everyone get a good look at her tear-stained face. When she came around to Harley and Severus, she began to beg and plead louder, imploring Severus to let her go...as if this was his decision. The Dark Lord could put  _ Harley  _ up there, and Severus would be powerless to stop him.

Voldemort used the Killing Curse, and let her now motionless body drop to the table, as he set his snake, Nagini, on it. Harley saw Draco cringe, but no one else did. They were to busy being engrossed by the snake engorging itself on the professor.

Harley, usually someone who loved gore and bloodshed, wanted to throw up, knowing she’d never, ever want to keep even a tiny garter snake for a pet again. She was relieved when the meeting ended, her mind whirling and her stomach roiling. She wished she’d just told Fred to come another day, as she Apparated back to her flat.

He was sitting in her armchair, trying to puzzle over an old potion book her father had given her a few months ago. When she entered the room, he looked up, glad to see her, but then his expression changed when he saw what must have been a ghastly look on her face.

“Harley!” Fred jumped from the chair and she fell into him, letting him see her really cry for the first time. Thus far, the only person to ever see the full range of her emotions had been her father, but now she was grateful for Fred, for the young man who loved her, every side of her.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“I do not know how much longer I can do this,” she said, breathing hard through her now quieting sobs.

“The Order? Was this a mission for the Order?” he asked. She nodded, unable to directly lie to him. She  _ was  _ a Death Eater because of the Order. “What on Earth did Dumbledore make you agree to do before he died?” It was a rhetorical question, and she did not answer as he led her to her bedroom, imploring her to lie down.

“No, I cannot sleep,” she said, leaning against her pillows. She felt filthy from what she had witnessed. “Stay with me?”

Fred smiled down at her and said, “Always.”


	35. Draco's Secret (Or How Harley Became An Accidental Therapist)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley takes part in the Chase of the Seven Potters before becoming a counselor to a distraught Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I made a post on time this week! Go me! ;)  
> I hope you like this, just a smidge of Drarry with a plot point that will go on through the rest of the story.

Mundungus Fletcher’s Confunded idea had been well received by the Order, though Dumbledore’s plan had left little place for Harley. They decided that, since she was good at potions and jinxes, she would be on emergency medical and defencive duty, in case it was necessary.

They did not know that she had another job that evening, to be one of the tails of Death Eaters following one of the Seven Potters. Once Voldemort had seen that there were multiple convoys flying out from Privet Drive, he had immediately called his followers to action.

There would be a group of four for each Potter, and Severus made certain that she would be flying with him.

Harley, feeling foolish, had said, “I cannot fly a broomstick. I don’t know how much help I could possibly be.” She hoped that she could stay out of it, but the Dark Lord happened to know the bewitching spell required to make a broomstick do its rider’s bidding through spellwork alone. No skill was necessary except for that of a wand.

Harley had never worn the black robes or masks the Death Eaters wore, but now she would. She sat staring at it for a long time before putting them on. Severus would not look at it.

“I fucking hate this,” he spat, swearing for the first time in her presence. “This is not your place, you should not be here!”

“You keep saying things like that, yet here I always am,” she replied. “It is not for much longer. It can’t be. Things have to come to a head--one way or another.” Grimacing, she straightened the black robes (not unlike her own, she admitted, but rather plain) and lifted the mask to hide her face. Were she seen, it would be catastrophic to the plan.

They had the routes each couple would be taking, though they did not know about the polyjuice potion, which hopefully gave the Order an edge.

“Can you fly a broomstick?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he replied. “But your mother could not. Many Muggle-borns have trouble with flying, and it seems you inherited that from her despite being a half-blood.”

Severus handed her a broomstick and she mounted it, reciting “ _ Fugite _ !” The broom lifted a few feet in the air. “ _ Audiat _ !” It obeyed her next command, which was to go higher. The spells were working, it seemed, and the foursome flew off in the direction of their intended target. Severus and Harley brought up the rear, to spot things going awry and hopefully stop any deaths.

The two they were following were Lupin and George, Harley realised. The two Order members took the Death Eaters on what could only be called a high-speed broom chase, firing and dodging spells. The chase went on so long that George’s polyjuice potion wore off, shocking the two Death Eaters who had not known of this plan.

Harley saw one of them--she had no idea who--reach for his wand and fire a spell at George, who barely missed getting Stunned. The Death Eater then went into the arm movement for the Killing Curse, but Severus was faster...or tried to be.

“ _ Sectumsempra _ !” He fired his curse, hoping to hit the black-robed figure when two things happened at once: the man moved, and Harley’s broom faltered, sending her diving down to the ground. Severus moved to catch her broomstick, and the spell that had been accidentally headed for George’s lungs missed and hit only his ear instead, making the accident non-fatal.

Harley saw her father’s mask slip and she cursed the Death Eater for moving. Now they would think he had hit George on purpose!

The two men Apparated away, leaving the foursome with nowhere to go but back to the Manor. Harley tugged her father aside and said, “Thank you for trying to save him. It could have gotten you killed.”

“You do need a best man at your wedding,” Severus replied loftily, and she was surprised she was able to smile at him.

She was able to leave and go to The Burrow, to check on everyone, right on schedule. In the house, she was accosted with more identity-confirming questions before she could enter. She was nearly dragged by Bill and Fleur to George’s side.

Pretending to be shocked, she asked what happened to his ear as she pulled out wound solvents and flesh regenerating potions, but first she needed to stop the bleeding. “ _ Vulnera sanentur _ .”

“Severus Snape happened,” Lupin glowered. “That damned Dark curse of his.” He glared at Harley, as if her relation to him was her fault. “At least he made a countercurse.”

Harley tended to George’s ear as well as she could, but the Dark Magic in that spell was strong, and there was no way to magically regrow the ear. It would have to heal the Muggle way: slowly and painfully. She hated to think what he would look like had the spell ripped open his torso. Dark magic like this was definitely not to be wielded by an untrained hand, or by anyone in an uncertain environment. One mistake, like that Death Eater moving, could have been deadly.

“This could have been much worse,” she told him. “You are lucky.”

“I am,” he agreed. “There was a Death Eater next to Snape, and their broom faltered. It was only because of that accident that Snape’s curse missed cutting my body to ribbons.”

Remus’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t looking, too intent on steering. This Death Eater didn't know how to fly a broomstick?” Harley felt her whole body stiffen as her godfather looked her over, looking for signs she had been on a broom, apparently.

“It looked like the broom was defective,” George replied. “Before that, the Death Eater looked like they were flying it fine. You know that they were on our arses the whole way.”

Eventually, the room filled up with everyone, though Fred was so late Harley had begun pacing the room, alternating with Molly. When he got to The Burrow, Harley threw herself in his arms, thankful to see him alive.

He unfortunately brought with him bad news: Alastor Moody was dead, killed by Voldemort because Fletcher Disapparated, leaving Moody alone and vulnerable. More death, and what was it all for? Absolutely nothing.

Harley stayed with the rest of them for that evening, teaching Molly how to apply the wound solvent potion to George’s ear, and then giving everyone bottles of potion to calm their nerves from the day.

She hugged and kissed Fred goodbye as the night turned to the dark hours of morning, promising to be there for the wedding. She was, after all, his date.

Back in her flat, she fell into bed, exhausted. While it was a tragedy about Moody--and she would be taking that up with Fletcher soon, the coward--she was chalking this night up as a win for the Order.

 

****

 

“You polyjuiced Harry to look like a Weasley?” Harley hissed to Fred when she got to The Burrow. “Of all the hairbrained ideas…haven’t you had enough of polyjuice yet?”

At the party, Harley flitted about as much as she could, restless over what she knew was going on at the Ministry, wishing she could have warned someone.

Eventually, she found her polyjuiced half-brother, and Fred introduced her to an old, woman, his aunt Muriel.

“A little sombre for a wedding, aren’t you, girl?” she scoffed, looking at Harley’s black dress robes and apparently dour expression. “And how do you know my family?”

“I am Fred’s fiancee,” she said, biting her tongue to lash out. It was difficult having her mother’s Gryffindor temper but her father’s Slytherin patience. It was like her emotions were at constant war with each other.

Before Muriel could respond, Fred was called away by his mother, leaving Polyjuice-Harry and Harley alone with the old bat. For once, Harley was thankful, as Muriel began talking about Dumbledore’s hidden history. Harley wished she was able to take notes, but she remembered more than enough so she and her father could use the information to the Order’s advantage if necessary.

Certain things, about Aberforth and Ariana, stuck in Harley’s head, and she had so many ideas swirling around now that she nearly forgot about the Death Eaters at the Ministry. She needed to sneak into Godric’s Hollow and get that book before it hit the shelves of Flourish and Blott’s, but when would she have the time? What if she and the rest of the Order were following the orders of a total madman who murdered his own sister?

“This is one crazy show,” Fred commented sitting down and interrupting the stilted conversation. “Harley, when we get married, none of this, okay? Just you, me, family, and a few friends. If I have to Body-Bind Mum, so be it,” He smirked at her.

Fred had approached the table just in time, as Muriel decided to go and start insulting Harley’s sense of fashion again. She and Harry were exchanging glances before Fred asked Harley to dance.

The moment she took her fiance’s hand, all Hell broke loose.

A lynx Patronus appeared, and the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt announced that the Ministry had fallen. Pandemonium broke out. Harley reached Hermione and Ron and told them to get Harry out of there. “Go to a Muggle town,” she suggested. “A place Death Eaters won’t think to look.”

“What about you?” Harry asked.

“I need to be sure everyone is safe. I will be fine. Now go!” She made sure they Apparated away, avoiding being seen by the Death Eaters as they began to swarm the wedding. She wished she had a dose of Polyjuice, it would make this all much easier.

Fred, George, and Bill were all doing the same thing she was, getting everyone away. Most Apparated, but they got brooms for those who did not get their Apparition certificate.”Is everyone from your family safe?” she asked Fred, who nodded. “Then get the Hell out of here.” She kissed him hard and Apparated away, to Spinner’s End.

The house was empty, her father was at the Ministry. She poured herself a glass of firewhiskey and downed it quickly. She was surprised that it had been so quick and clean, getting everyone away. They were mostly stubborn Gryffindors there, and she had expected them to try and fight, thus getting injured in the process.

She sat in her usual place, Transfiguring her dress into something more comfortable, and began to think about what Dumbledore had said would come next. Her father’s appointment as Headmaster, of course. That was something she wanted to be proud of, but she had not wanted him to gain his position like this. He was brilliant, and he could have gotten the position blindfolded with his wand hand tied behind his back. Now everyone would think he had only gotten the job because he was the Dark Lord’s ‘most trusted advisor’.

Dumbledore had wanted her in the school, doing security patrols. The Death Eaters would think she was on their side, but she and her father would do their best to keep injury and punishments to a minimum. It was all they could do. Harley was convinced that the old Headmaster’s plans had been full of large, dangerous holes. This was one of them.

And then what? Just wait until Voldemort went after Harry? Would Harry have to keep running forever? That was the problem with most Gryffindors: they didn’t stop to think. Dumbledore could be leading Harry to his death...which was, incidentally, what he wanted. So maybe Dumbledore  _ had  _ been thinking. And that wasn’t good.

She would have killed Voldemort herself, but for that prophecy, the one that said it had to end with Harry versus Voldemort. Neither can live while the other survives. Harley didn't believe that Harry had to die, and neither did Severus.

She realised she would need to hire a shopkeep for when she would be patrolling Hogwarts. That would be her next step then, to find a reliable witch or wizard. Those would be hard to come by these days. She could not trust Death Eaters, and no way in Hell could she count on a random wizard/witch not to discover her hidden back room, even though she had warded it expertly.

After that, it would be up to the two Snapes to get Harry to kill Voldemort. The question was how would they do it?

 

****

 

The Potion Master had been taking interviews for a week, and Harley was ready to throw in the towel when the bell above the door jingled. She looked up from her desk and saw Draco looking very awkward as he walked around the store.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, a bit more kindly than she would greet other Death Eaters. Draco was not evil, he was forced to make poor choices by a father who was in every sense a bully.

“Snape.” He gave a small grin.

“What brings you here? Business or pleasure?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Neither. Can I-- ...I trust you. And I need to tell someone this or else I’m going to lose my mind. Please, can you promise me you’ll never tell a soul what I say here?”

She nodded. “I am no stranger to secrets, Malfoy. Sit down.” She kept a desk with chairs around it for patrons who wanted consultations about certain potions and that was where she invited him to sit.

She poured him a bit of a relaxation potion and he drank it with a shaking hand. Harley had seen this side of the usually guarded boy before, let loose when he usually thought no one was paying attention. She had never imagined he would willingly show her.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said. “I want out, and I can’t get out. If  _ he  _ doesn’t kill me, my father would.”

“You never wanted in, did you?” she asked.

He shook his head miserably. “I guess you wouldn’t know what that feels like. I saw you and your father: neither of you even flinched when you got your Mark. You chose this. I never had a choice if I wanted to live.”

“You’re right. I did choose this. But unlike you, my father did not want me to. He had reservations over me pledging my life to the Dark Lord so young. He is happy we’re working towards a common goal, of course, but he tried to stop me, initially.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Why? He’s  _ above  _ my father in the Death Eaters. Why would he not want you to join?”

“He thought I should take care of my business, get my life going, before I joined the crusade,” she lied. While her father had been teaching her Occlumency, Harley had been taking some time to teach herself its opposite, Legilimency. She was not very skilled yet, not like Severus, but she could glean thoughts from unprotected minds. And at the forefront of Draco’s mind was not his father, but her own relation.

“What does Harry Potter have to do with this?” she asked quietly. She watched as Draco jumped, his already pale skin turning white.

“How do you...what makes you think Potter has anything to do with anything?” Draco stammered.

Harley smirked. “I am a practicing Legilimens. Your thoughts are not hard to penetrate. So tell me, why is Harry Potter mixed in your thoughts? Loathe to kill a former classmate? That is understandable.”

She waited while Draco fought against the effects of the Veritaserum she had slipped into his relaxation potion.

“I couldn’t bare the thought of hurting him,” he murmured.

“Why?” She leaned across the desk, wearing down whatever resistance the Veritaserum had not already whittled away.

“Because I love him, okay?” Draco shoved his chair away from the desk and began to pace back and forth. “From the moment I met him in Diagon Alley, before I even knew who he was, I fell for him. I always tried to impress him. I did everything I could but I couldn’t do it right! It all came out mean.”

Well. This was an unexpected development.

“Draco, there is a Muggle phrase coined decades ago; ‘pulling her pigtails’. It means you tease or bully the person you have romantic feelings towards. If I were to take that saying seriously, then I would rightly assume that what you say is true, and you went about your emotions all wrong. Believe me, Draco, I know emotions are messy things that require a great deal of control. You have very little control over them, and you hate that, don’t you?” He nodded. “You have a choice, kid. You can stay on the Dark Lord’s side, a mere tool, or you can take a shot at happiness. The choice is yours.”

He sighed, and it sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “How can you be telling me to ditch the Death Eaters? You’re one of us!”

_ Don’t remind me, you little brat _ . “I am telling you that because I believe in freedom of choice.”

Draco put his head in his hands. “I can’t leave. I waited too long to want to be a rebel. I just don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Harry...Hermione...Dumbledore...”

Harley leaned back in her chair. “You did not hurt Dumbledore. And I think I have a way where you can still be a Death Eater and not have to hurt anyone anymore.” She stood up and walked around to his side of the desk. “I have to go and enforce punishment at Hogwarts once Father starts his term as Headmaster, which means I need a clerk for the shop. I can’t hire just anyone, because of the Dark back room. I believe I can trust you, as long as I get Father to convince the Dark Lord.”

Draco’s eyes brightened considerably. “Why would you do this for me?”

Harley smirked. “Because I pity you. You had a bully of a father, were forced to believe ideals you had no way of researching, and alienated anyone who could help warm your heart. The least I can do is give you a safe place to work.”

“Honest, borderline cruel. How did no one realise you were the daughter of Severus Snape sooner?” Draco grinned. “I better go. Let me know if they agree?”

She smiled. “I’m sure it will be at the next meeting, so you’ll know straightaway. They better agree. It’s that, or I don’t go to Hogwarts, and the Dark Lord certainly won’t have that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the holidays, posts will resume on Tuesday, January 3rd. xoxo


	36. Spinner's End (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spinner's End becomes a temporary refuge for Order members on the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I hope you had a great holiday (whatever one you celebrate). I'm back with the last 22 or so chapters of the story, which I have almost finished writing. I hope you like this one. I know a lot of you were mad at James earlier in my story, and maybe this will make you feel better about the adoration the man unjustly receives.

As expected, the Dark Lord heard her plea that Draco was the most trustworthy person to run her shop while she took her place as ‘disciplinarian’ at Hogwarts. That was supposed to go to the Carrows, as they also were going to be teaching Defence Against The Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, respectively. However, according to Dumbledore’s plan, Severus had managed to convince Voldemort that they needed someone to patrol the halls, and that Filch was now too old to do it.

Harley had been sitting next to her father at the table when he made the play.

“Harley is willing to let Draco Malfoy take over the running of the shop in the daytime because he is trustworthy, and she will do Hogwarts patrols,” Severus said.

“And whose idea was this?” Voldemort asked.

“It was hers, my lord,” Severus said. “Spurred by my telling her how poorly Filch has gotten over the years. He might have been decent up until 1995, but it was downhill from there, I assure you.”

“Miss Snape, from what I have seen from you with Bellatrix, I think you would be perfect to patrol Hogwarts,” Voldemort said. “As for Draco...I have found him to be more trustworthy than his own father. Very well. We will try it this way, but I will be getting reports on you from Alecto and Amycus, to be certain you are not slagging off. You understand what will happen if you are.”

Harley nodded, the phantom ache in her bones reminding her of her previous punishment. “Of course. That is quite fair, my lord.”

The night before the Hogwarts term began, Harley and Severus were at Spinner’s End.

“Harley, how do you plan on explaining to Longbottom, Lovegood, and that Weasley girl what you’re doing at school, a staff member?” Severus asked.

She shrugged. “I was thinking a scare tactic of wearing my mask in the halls. Except possibly for Ginny, no one will be the wiser as to who I am. And I can always use a Memory Charm if necessary, but I will try to avoid it.”

“I don't know why Dumbledore had to let you do this,” Severus said, closing the latch on his suitcase. He would not be back at Spinner’s End until the summer holiday, just like always. “Keep an eye on Malfoy, will you? His mood swings since last year are...unpredictable.”

Harley nodded. “I know that. I’ve already dosed him with Veritaserum once, and I will do so every night when I check in with him.”

She saw Severus smirk at her. “Maybe you take after me a little too much.”

 

****

 

Two months into the school year, Harley was once again ready to call it quits. What the Death Eaters were doing to the students was frightening, and she had no way to get the Order involved. Instead, she did what she could to keep students as safe as possible, and keep the Carrows from injuring them.

Ginny Weasley got herself and Longbottom into trouble with Alecto, and Harley had just managed to catch the insults the two were hurdling before she saw that Alecto was going to give them the Cruciatus Curse.

“Carrow!” she called from the doorway. The two students looked at her apprehensively, and she was sure that she looked frightening, as the only Death Eater to wear the mask and robes inside the school. “I’ll take them. Put your wand away...now.”

Neville looked as though he had been beaten already, and Harley’s stomach twisted when she thought about what must have been done to him. Ginny seemed unharmed. What they got was less than other students, however, because purebloods were treated with preference, even blood traitors like the Longbottoms and Weasleys. “Come with me.”

“Where are you taking us?” Ginny asked defiantly. The girl was a Gryffindor through and through.

“To the Headmaster.” Harley turned on her heel and let the two of them follow her. “One word from either of you and I’ll put you back in there with Carrow.”

“It’s better than  _ Snape _ ,” Neville spat.

“Oh, has the little misplaced Hufflepuff suddenly learned how to roar like a Gryffindor?” Harley mocked. “I don’t give a damn how you treat the others here, but you  _ will  _ show your Headmaster some respect. Ten points from Gryffindor.” She was glad the mask changed how her voice sounded.

They reached the gargoyle that guarded Snape’s new office door and Harley gave the password to take her upstairs to see her father.

He glared at the two Gryffindors over Harley’s shoulder. “Well? What happened now?”

“Causing trouble and disrespect in Muggle Studies, sir,” Harley replied. “I thought you’d prefer to punish them in Carrow’s stead.”

Snape made a notation on a parchment. “Fine. Twenty points each from Gryffindor and detention in the Forbidden Forest, nine PM tonight, both of you.” He looked at Harley. “Will you inform Hagrid?”

“Certainly.” Her smile was hidden by her mask. Sending students into the Forest as punishment had been Dumbledore’s idea, and she found out her brother had been sent there during his first year. Despite its many dangers, it was by far safer than being tortured, and Hagrid would help keep them from harm.

After informing Hagrid, she went to see her father again, who was staring blankly out the window as rain hit the glass.

“We’re doing the best we can,” Harley said, knowing what her father was thinking.

“Are we?” Severus asked. “Or are we just biding our time, preventing the inevitable downfall of the Wizarding World?”

Deep down, she was wondering the same thing. “Father, we cannot give up. Despite the Order’s best efforts, you and I are the only ones who are actually doing anything. Remus is on a bloody suicide mission for no reason, the three of them are hiding somewhere in the wilderness without a prayer of finding a horcrux, and everyone else is barely holding themselves together. You and I cannot afford to lose hope.”

Severus turned to her, and she saw a deep, dark sadness there in his eyes. “Harley, I lost hope when your mother died. Now all I want is to make the Wizarding World a safe place for you, and fulfill my promise to your mother to keep Harry safe.”

She walked further into the room, placing her hand on his shoulder. “There’s always hope. You know that, deep down. And we are going to restore that hope to everyone else. And when it’s over we can be a proper family. That’s what’s getting me through this. You and I. Fred. Giving you grandchildren.” She smiled up at him and he ruffled her dark hair, an oddly affectionate gesture from him. She hoped that when the war was over she could see that sweet side she knew he had come back to the surface.

An owl made its way through the rain and tapped on the window. Severus let it inside, grimacing at the trail of water it was leaving in its wake. The owl handed Harley a sopping wet letter and she fed it some seeds she kept in her pocket for when she went to visit the Owlery. Since remaining at Hogwarts, she’s had her mail redirected.

Using a charm to dry the parchment, she opened the letter. It was Fred, writing in as much of a code as he could, using the nicknames they’d gotten from Lee Jordan’s Potterwatch radio programme.

“ _ Raven, this is Rapier. We could use a new station tomorrow night. Can you recommend a warm, dry place? Owl me back at the Mail Order HQ. Love you _ .”

They needed a place to safely project Potterwatch. Where the Hell could she put them? Not her shop, obviously. She mused about it, when Severus said, “What about our house?”

Harley laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Why not? No one is there, and it’s, as Bellatrix put it, a Muggle dunghill, so it is unlikely anyone will see them. I have no personal things except photographs of you to show whose home it is. I will make an excuse for you to be absent from Hogwarts tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Father.”

 

****

 

Over the Wizarding Radio the next day, as she was preparing to go to Spinner’s End, she heard a report that Snatchers were sighted in woods, chasing after an unregistered Muggle-born and someone possibly linked to Harry Potter.

“Oh, Hell,” she said. It had to be the Golden Trio. Apparating herself to the closest point to where they had been spotted, she heard a commotion. Running that way, she saw a small group of Snatchers and took out her wand. “ _ Stupefy _ !” One went down. “ _ Petrificus totalus! _ ” There went a second and third. The other three turned to see who their assailant was, but two of them went down thanks to Hermione, and Harry took care of the third one.

“Harley!” Harry cried. “What are you doing here?”

“There was a report on the radio about--what on Earth happened to Weasley?” Ron was the color of cottage cheese, his arm in a sling and leaking blood.

“He Splinched,” Hermione said.

“All right. You’re all coming with me. Harry, take my arm. Hermione, take the other one and hold on tightly to Ron,” Harley ordered.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked.

“Somewhere safe, at least for the night.” Harley Apparated them all inside Spinner’s End, making sure they could not see where they were. The house was a little dusty from being empty for two months, but a few spells would take care of that.

Everyone was looking about themselves, even Ron, who had promptly lain down on the sofa with a pained groan.

“You two keep him awake. I’ll be right back.” Harley removed her cloak and went into the basement, where she and her father had a workshop set up for experimental potions. She came back with the one he’d made to fix wounds, particularly those caused by Splinching. Going back to the sitting room, she removed Ron’s bandage and groaned herself. It was disgusting, but she’d seen worse.

“All you had was dittany?” she asked Hermione.

“It was all I could make,” she replied sheepishly.

“I’ve got some stuff I can give you,” Harley offered as she healed Ron’s wounds. “Silence. This will hurt,” she warned him as his flesh began to grow back at a rapid rate. He screamed into one of the cushions to muffle the sound.

Harley stood up. “Good as new. Looks like we’ll be able to send this for approval at the Ministry so I can start selling it soon.” She looked over the three of them. “You all look like death warmed over. When was the last time you had a decent meal...or a bath?”

All three shrugged. “Wash up. I’ll fix something. Fred, Lee, and I’m not sure who else will be coming to broadcast Potterwatch tonight.”

“Where are we that’s so safe?” Harry asked. “No Death Eaters, you can hide me, you can get Potterwatch on the air. Doesn’t seem possible.”

_ Oh, Harry, if you only knew you were talking to a Death Eater right this second!  _ “Remember what Ginny said, anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve,” Harley replied, going to see if they had left anything edible and not for potions in the kitchen. She had managed to keep them in the dark about their location, but possibly not for long. Hermione was bright, and Harry was persistent.

Finding things they could actually consume, she sent trays floating into the sitting room.

Hermione was perusing the bookshelves with a pursed mouth. “Harley, these can’t be yours, right?”

Harley took a sip of her liquor-strengthened coffee. “No? Why not?” She chuckled. “This is the home of someone I trust. I have stayed here before when necessary. It is not safe in the long run--I don’t think anywhere is--but this is a Muggle town, and unlikely to receive any unwanted visitors for now.

Harry was looking at the photographs on the mantle. Many of Harley, from the album Severus had asked for in her fifth year. One of the NEWT Potions class. And one of Lily. Hermione joined him, a few books in her thin arms.

“Harley...this used to be your family’s house, didn’t it? Your Wizarding family?” she asked. “Did you find them?”

Harley sighed, thankful that she was a good liar. “I did. And I cannot say anything more or else they will come under fire with the Dark Lord as well.” She scoffed. “ _ They _ . Right. I think I have the smallest family in history.”

“Is your father in the Order? I know there are people we haven’t even met involved,” Hermione said.

Harley nodded. “Yes, he is. Now come on, you all need to eat something...and clean yourselves up. No more about my family. My father will be killed for simply being related to someone helping Harry Potter and you know it. When the war is over everything will be much...clearer.”

Hermione read more than she ate, trying to devour everything she could on the Dark Arts. Ron was too out of it to do much, but even his pain and fatigue did not keep him from eating, and Harry kept looking at something in his pocket. Harley caught a glimpse of light. Why was he carrying a broken shard of glass with him?

“What is that?” she asked.

“A Wizarding Glass,” Harry replied. “Sirius used to have the other half of it, and I swear I’ve seen someone looking into it, but Fletcher stole it, and I have no idea who he sold it to. Claimed he didn’t remember when we asked him about it and Slytherin’s locket.”

“The horcrux? You brought a bloody horcrux in here?”

Harry nodded, looking back from the Glass and up at Lily’s photo. “When was that taken?”

“Third year at Hogwarts,” Harley replied. “Would you like a copy of it?”

He shook his head. “It still hurts that Mum cheated on Dad. I think if your father walked in here right now, I’d duel him.”

Harley swallowed a laugh, picturing what Severus would do to Harry. The half of her that was not amused was reaching the end of its long fuse. Since she was fifteen she had been holding in the fact that James had basically drugged Lily, tricking her into being in love with him when they were teens. Harry always thought that his father was some sort of saint, as did everyone else who knew him.

He had even lied to his friends, to the other Marauders, about what he’d done, the little weasel. He lied to Dumbledore! He hadn’t deserved the scum on the bottom of Lily’s cauldron.

“Your father was no great charmer, Harry,” Harley said. “Mum never loved him. Ever. And all of you go around leading the James Potter Fan Club like he was a hero. He was a bully, and not in the sense that sometimes kids can be a little mean. He tried to kill Severus Snape when they were mere children! He tormented people, Harry, my father included. Do you really think Mum would’ve forgiven him for what he’d done so easily?”

“You’re mad. Your father’s probably got you brainwashed that Dad was a bad person!” Harry said defiantly.

“You naive little child! My father has told me nothing I did not already know,” Harley replied. “It’s in Mum’s own words that James Potter gave her a love potion, bewitching her into an emotion she never really felt!” She had not meant for that to come out, but she was sick of her father always being the creep, the bully, the bad guy. He was a victim who made poor choices. James Potter was born a monster.

“What do you mean, in Mum’s words?” Harry asked. “Harley, tell me what you mean!”

“Mum kept journals. And they were given to me to learn more about her.”

Harry’s green eyes were wide behind his spectacles. “Are you kidding? And you never thought to tell me about them? Why were they given to you and not to me? How do you know they’re authentic?”

“One question at a time, Potter. They’re real, I assure you. They were saved from Godric’s Hollow before Muggle police could find them. They were not given to you because... well, because you would not have appreciated their value. Those are not my words, mind you. I did not show them to you because I know what it is like to have  _ my  _ father’s name repeatedly dragged through the mud. It hurts terribly. I did not wish to hurt my own flesh and blood the same way. I thought it was better if you did not know,” Harley said. “He’s dead--James, I mean. What would be the point in telling, aside from hurting you? I have enough of our mum in me to not want to do that.”  _ Though my father’s side is very pleased to see how the truth about James hurts you so much. _

The looks of shock on those three faces was identical. Harley felt great satisfaction at their now knowing what James was really like.

“I tried telling Sirius, and he didn’t believe me. I have not told Remus. He’s been through enough without knowing the truth about his friend. Do what you will with the information, Harry, but do  _ not  _ come into this house talking poorly about my father. Mum loved him more than anything, and he loves her still.”

Before Harry could respond, there was a knock at the door, done in the specific Morse Code Harley had asked Fred to use.

Opening the door, Harley brandished her wand at Fred, who was being followed by Lee Jordan.

“Both of you: what House did Lee Jordan tell Fred and George Weasley that I belonged in on the train ride heading into our fifth year?” she asked.

At the same time they replied, “Slytherin,” and she let them in gratefully. Fred wrapped her into his arms and she held him tightly. It had been too long since she’d seen him, and every day she checked the  _ Prophet  _ to see if he was alive or not.

There was the expected exclamations on the Trio’s presence in the house, and Lee started setting up his equipment, all the while giving the home a questioning glare.

“Man, this is one creepy place,” Lee commented. “This yours, Harley?”

“Not exactly,” she replied.

“It looks like a place I’d expect you to live in,” Fred said. “A lot of dusty books and darkness. It suits you.” It was hard for Harley to believe, but he really did mean that kindly.

Lee was finished setting up when he asked if Harry wanted to go on air.

“No,” Harley answered for him. “We’re working our arses off to save his life, and you want to put him on the radio! Don’t be foolish.”

Lee muttered something under his breath and changed the subject. “You’d think  _ whoever  _ owns this place would have taken  _ that  _ down.” He meant the photo from the Potions class. “Is this your Muggle family’s place and they don’t know what that greasy git did?”

“It was an honour for Fred and I to be in that level of a class,” Harley snapped. “And do you want to give me the third degree or simply be grateful I am allowed to use this place to help you and the Order?”

Lee didn’t answer, just finished setting up. After a few minutes of getting nothing but feedback, he finally found the correct frequency to begin the broadcast.

“Hey, what’s up witches and wizards?” he said. “Lee Jordan coming to you live from what might be the creepiest house in Britain, here with Rapier and Raven. Yes, folks, Raven. She really exists and she has some brilliant news for us about the earlier report regarding the pursuit of Harry Potter. Raven?”

Harley had never been on the air, but had sent in what reports she could gleam from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. “Yes, I do, Lee, and thank you for the compliment on the house. This afternoon Snatchers were on the trail of Potter, but it is with great...joy that I can tell you he is alive, safe, and well after a brief duel. If the Order is listening, or if the Dark Lord himself is, Potter and those with him are all still kicking.”

“Any other news from your area?” Lee asked her.

“Students were spotted with Professor Hagrid from Hogwarts in the Forbidden Forest. Ginerva Weasley and Neville Longbottom. All three also seemed perfectly fine. That’s really all I’ve got for you.”

Lee and Fred went on talking, ending their broadcast with an ad for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

As Lee was packing up his things, Fred snapped his fingers. “That’s it! This is the town we visited when we went to find your father! Is this his place, Harley? Have you found him?”

“Yes and yes. And I can’t say anything else till the war ends, or else he could be killed. You understand why I never said anything before, right? The Dark Lord does not need to have any other targets.” Harley said.

Fred nodded. “I’m really happy about this. I can’t wait to meet him. ...Wait...he doesn’t need to approve of me, does he? He won’t be all judgy about us? Bad enough I had to ask  _ Snape’s  _ approval; I doubt I could do it again!”

Harley smiled at his nervousness. “Fred, relax. He’s perfectly fine with our impending marriage, despite my being so young. It’s my place in the Order that’s got him worried. And I suppose I should apologise to you on his behalf. When you came poking around here with me before sixth year, he gave you a slight Memory Charm. Which is why you don’t really remember being here before.”

Fred started to laugh. “So that’s where you get it from! I really can’t wait for this all to be over: I’m excited to finally meet him. He sounds a lot like you.”

“I’d curb that excitement, love,” Harley warned, reaching up and kissing him. “Do you want to stay? I’d have to wake you at dawn, however. I’m still on the job for the Order. This was a sabbatical I could not quite afford to take.” Her heart wrenched at the thought of what that bastard Amycus was doing in her stead this night.

“Then why did you?” Fred asked. “You didn’t have to do this. What could happen?”

“Worse case scenario? There are a thousand possible victims to be subjected to torture before seven in the morning,” Harley replied.

Fred looked aghast. “And you let that be a possibility to help me?”

_ I’d let it all go to Hell if it meant you’d be okay _ , Harley thought, realising that this was another trait of her father’s. Unconditional love. “I love you, Fred. The only person whose life I’d put before yours would be my father’s, and even that is quite the tight race.”

“Thanks a lot!” Harry spat. For a moment, Harley had forgotten that they were not alone.

Fred laughed. “Sorry, mate, looks like you’re a very distant third place to your big sister.”

“Who said he was third?” Harley asked, as close to a joke as she’d come with her dry wit. She never thought she’d be able to joke at all, but she guessed that tragedy somehow brought out her lighter side.

“Harley, listen...don’t ever do that again. Don’t put me before the safety of others, okay? It makes me feel pretty great, but not at the cost of others’ pain,” Fred said.

Harley nodded, not about to commit to something like that. She’d always put him first, just as her father had put Lily first, even over her husband and son.

She Transfigured the sofa into a small bed on which both Harry and Ron could fit. She let Hermione use her bedroom for the night. She had no plans to sleep, too keyed up, and it looked like Fred was feeling the same way.

“Can you talk about what you’re doing?” Fred asked. They were sitting in the kitchen, having tea.

“Better not,” Harley replied. “It was Dumbledore’s last request for me before he died. A bit risky, but then his whole plan for me was risky from the get-go. ...Look, can we talk about anything else?” To think about what was happening at Hogwarts made her sick.

“Of course.” Fred nodded. “How about where we’re going to live after we get married? I’d never make you come to our flat, and yours isn’t practical if we ever have kids. Which I guess I should have asked you...do you even want kids?” He looked so nervous, as if he was expecting her to get angry for talking about something so nice as having a family.

“Well, I admit I never liked children, but ever since you proposed...I don’t know. I guess I want a couple of kids after all...just not  _ too  _ many. I see how you Weasleys breed!” She loved making Fred laugh. He brightened up her life and she wanted to return the favour. “In fact, I was just discussing that with Father. I’d love to have a normal Wizarding life once the war is over, and that includes you and children. My father is a half-blood, you see, and he would love to see our surname not only blended with that of a pureblood family, but to fade from Muggle history and have an wholly Wizarding connection. From what I gather, his Muggle side of the family was awful. He won’t really talk about it.”

“I wish you had told me about your dad. When did you meet him? How?” Fred asked. “You were looking for so long.”

Harley shook her head. “Can’t say. You will know everything soon, I promise. He’s in the Order, one of the members who hasn’t been to Grimmauld Place in a while.”  _ Like since he killed our leader. _ “So he is involved and  _ very  _ undercover alongside me. To say his name or how I found out who he was to me to anyone would be to blow his cover sky high and possibly get Harry killed. For sure he and I would be killed.”

She paused and then said, “As to where we might live...a mile from here, in the more populated residential section of town, there’s a little three bedroom house. It’s currently vacant. ...It was my mum’s house when she was a child. I’ve done some digging, just to see, and I know we can hook up the Floo Network there, as well as make sure we can Apparate indoors. I found wards and charms to make Muggles be unable to see inside or spot any Wizarding activity.”

Harley had done this over the summer, having been shown the house by her father before he had Apparated away, unable to say any more. The home was dingy and dark. Once her father had described it as a bright place where he used to spend his summers, to get away from his family. It had been warm and welcoming for him. She wanted to make it seem that way again.

Fred took her hand and kissed her palm. “That sounds like a great plan. We can Floo to work, when we have kids they’ll live in walking distance of their grandfather and can easily Floo to the other grandparent set.” He stood up and pulled her up, into his arms, looking unusually solemn for the bubbly man she fell in love with.

“Harley, I promise you, we’re going to have a great life. No noseless git is going to stop us.”


	37. The End Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Hogwarts begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! My Wi-Fi is wonky.  
> So, this was a hard chapter to write and I really hope you all like it. There are some sweet moments, and some sad as well. Everything from here on out that is different from canon is done so on purpose. Though some lines are straight from JKR.

In the end of April, Harley was called by Bill to Shell House. When she arrived, she saw Harry and Luna outside the home...and they were digging a grave.

“Harry? What happened?” she called, her black robes dragging in the wet sand.

“Dobby died,” Luna said, her face solemn. “Bellatrix killed him after he helped us escape from Malfoy Manor.”

Harley looked at Harry’s side and saw the cursed blade she had sold to the witch. Poor little Dobby. She’d had quite a bit of interaction with him when Hermione was advocating for S.P.E.W. during Harley’s sixth year.

“I am sorry, Harry,” she said quietly. “What happened, exactly? How did you wind up at Malfoy Manor?”

Harry began to explain what had happened, about the Deathly Hallows, that Luna had been taken, that they had also been holding Griphook the goblin and Ollivander in the manor. The three of them had been caught by Snatchers, but Draco had failed to identify Harry through the hex Hermione had put on him in lieu of a disguise.

Harley felt a swell of appreciation for Draco, though she was miffed he wasn’t at his position at The Potion Master. “Why did Bill owl  _ me _ ? He said to bring healing potions and calming potions. He also asked me to bring a black lace dress.”

“Ollivander and Hermione are hurt. We all could use the calming potion,” Ron said, coming from inside the house. He looked haggard. “Poor Hermione…”

Harley handed calming potions to Ron and Harry. Luna refused one, saying something about being too calm makes Wrackspurts come in droves. Harley was wise enough not to ask any more. Inside the small but pretty house, she greeted Bill and Fleur, who told her which bedroom contained which patient.

Hermione looked like she had been through the wringer. Harley knew what Bellatrix was capable of. She’d tortured people alongside her, things Harley knew she’d never forget doing. Bellatrix was insane, and it had taken all her her willpower not to kill her when they had to work together.

“Harley,” Hermione greeted, her face blank.

“Do not feel you need to speak,” Harley said. “But I will listen if you need an ear that is not going to turn around and look at you as though you are damaged. Ron and Harry are good people, but they can be condescending towards you. I know.”

Hermione was silent.

“But remember that being brave is more than just facing danger: it is surviving these horrors. Bellatrix Lestrange is mad, she delights in pain and has absolutely no sense of remorse. Many people leave her presence irreparably broken. But not you. That’s a thing to be proud of.”

Harley sat on the bed, and went to take Hermione’s hand, when the girl jerked it back. “What is it? What happened?”

It was at that moment Hermione broke down in tears. Harley had never been very good with “tea and sympathy”, but something akin to her mother’s manner seemed to come upon her as she tried her best to calm Hermione down. It took a few moments, but she did stop crying and shakily held her arm for Harley to see.

Carved into the flesh of her forearm was “Mudblood”. Harley had a brief mental image of gouging Bellatrix’s eyes out with that blade as she surveyed the wound.

“I am sorry to tell you, but that will never go away,” Harley said.

“That’s what I thought,” Hermione replied.

Harley poured her potions over Hermione’s wound, to be sure that they would not become infected, and healed some of her other superficial wounds. Lastly, she gave Hermione a potion to get her to sleep.

“Did you bring the dress?” she asked as she drank.

“Yes. It might need some Transfiguring to fit you. Why did you need a black dress?” Harley asked. “Is Dobby going to have a funeral or something?”

Hermione managed a weak laugh. “No, I have an idea. It’s a long story, but it requires an outfit that...well...I’d never own in a million years. No offence, we just have a different opinion on what looks nice.”

“None taken. Now rest. Whatever you’re planning on doing, you need to be one hundred percent before you do it.” Harley left the room, taking a breath as she pulled her wand from her pocket. Next was Ollivander, and it was an understatement to say that he would not be pleased to see her walk into his room after what she had done to him...repeatedly.

She entered the room quietly, hoping the man was asleep. No such luck. The sun was brightly streaming into his room, and he looked even worse than he did the last time she had seen him. Someone had done a new number on him since she’d been in to torture him.

The old man’s eyes widened in the familiar fear she had come to expect from him and he opened his mouth, probably to shout for help.

“ _ Silencio _ ,” Harley cast. “Now, I really don’t have time to explain or convince you of the truth, Ollivander. I have a lot of respect for you, after all, and I’m going to help you...and by extension, help myself. ... _ Obliviate _ !”

After a moment of playing around inside Ollivander’s mind, he now had no memory of Harley ever touching him, let alone what she had done. Bellatrix’s face now replaced that spot in his mind where she used to be. It made healing him a much easier process, and she was able to slip away sooner than she had thought.

“Thanks for your help,” Harry said when she went back into the kitchen.

“It’s what I am here for, Potter,” she replied, taking the cup of tea Fleur was offering her. “I cannot stay much longer. I’m needed.”

“Where?” Bill asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I’ve always liked you, Harley. Ever since Fred brought you to our place in ninety-four. But I must admit that your secrecy is a little unnerving. Does anyone know what you’re doing?”

“Dumbledore did. And for a while Remus did. I assume he still does,” Harley replied. “It hasn’t really changed. Trust me, I am unnerved at how everyone’s taking my secrecy, as if I am going to betray the Order. This war is not black and white. It might seem that way but it is not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked.

Before Harley was going to answer, the door burst open and Remus entered, looking a bit haggard but not as bad as he had when Harley had last seen him.

“I have an announcement...oh, Harley, when did you get here?” He blinked and looked a bit owlish.

“An hour ago. ...Remus, are you well?” she asked, a little amused at how he was acting.

“I am much better than that: Dora and I had a baby! A little boy: his name’s Teddy, and he’s already managing to change his hair and eye colour,” Remus said.

There was a little flurry of congratulatory remarks, and Harley couldn’t resist saying, “So, what colour will his fur be on the full moon?”

Remus pretended not to hear that. “Harry, Harley--we picked you as godparents.”

“Me?” the siblings said at the same time.

“Wow, how long have I been away?” Harley asked. Had she really not seen anyone outside of the Death Eaters in nine months except for the night she did Potterwatch?

Remus looked her over and said, “A long time. And it’s showing on you. Are you okay?”

Harley shrugged. “As well as can be expected, Remus. Are you? Or have you taken to going undercover with werewolves even while your wife was pregnant?”

“I had to. I had to at least try to get some of them away from You-Know-Who,” Remus said. “Unfortunately, I didn’t succeed.” He looked over at Harley. “Dumbledore thought it was a good idea to put us all with our own kind.”

Bill cut in, “It doesn’t seem like Dumbledore’s plans have had much success have they?”

“I haven’t failed and I don’t intend to,” Harley said. “Even so, I always knew it was futile to try and bring the werewolves to the Light. No offence, Remus, but they  _ are  _ Dark creatures.” There. How did he like it when she belittled things about him he could not control? “People can be convinced and reasoned with: monsters cannot.”

“Touche, kid,” Remus said. “I shouldn’t have made that comment. You didn’t...well, you didn't ask for  _ him _ .”

Harley moved towards the door and, before she Apparated away, she responded with, “Actually, when I was at school, he is precisely what I asked for.”

 

****

 

Three days later...

Harley rushed into her father’s office, black robes billowing behind her in her haste. She barged in without knocking, something she had not done since she was a student. “Father, he’s here. Potter, I mean. They’re gathered in the Room Of Requirement. I do not believe anyone else knows, but I can’t be certain. There was a commotion, but it might have been unconnected. Aberforth sent me a message.”

Severus stood up and beckoned her closer. “It is time, Harley. Potter is forcing the Dark Lord’s hand, and we must act if we are all to survive.”

Harley nodded, hating what this meant. “What will you have to do?”

“I will stay by the Dark Lord’s side as much as I can without causing too much damage to the Light. Eventually I will lead Potter to him under the guise of bringing to boy to the slaughter. On the way I will reveal all to Potter. He cannot know until then, lest the Dark Lord find out from his mind.”

“Not a problem if he had paid attention to his Occlumency lessons. I won’t say a word, Father,” Harley promised. “I sent a coded message via owl to Fred and George. They’re getting the rest of the Order as we speak.”

“Good. And Harley? I am not going to let anything happen to your brother without a fight. Dumbledore might believe that he must die, but I do not. I took this mission over sixteen years ago to protect him, and I will not let one old man’s opinion change the outcome I have fought so hard for.”

Severus stood and walked around his desk to stand before his daughter. “Go to your friends. It is time for your part in this charade to end.”

“I’d much rather stay by your side,” Harley said. There were very few instances where she disagreed with her father, but this was one of them. Her gut told her she should not leave him to the Dark Lord. “What if he blames you for my desertion?”

“You are the only person he will hold responsible. He was born under a love potion, which means that he has no concept of any kind of love, including that of family. He would not think me responsible for you in any way. Do not worry about me, Harley. Worry about your brother, and his well-being. He needs as many people fighting for him as he can get. He needs you. If you will not do it for him, do it for your future with Fred. And if that is not enough, do it for your mother,” Severus said.

Harley nodded. “For Mum.”

Suddenly she was pulled to her father in a hard embrace. The first time he had initiated one between them. She hugged him back, wishing she could stop time and remain here, happy and safe, for just a little while longer.

Severus held her away from him and placed a kiss to her brow. “Go on. Give them Hell for Lily’s sake.” He paused, his dark eyes sparkling with more emotion in them than Harley had ever seen. “I love you, little girl.”

“I love you, too, Father,” Harley said, choking back her emotions. He had never actually spoken those words aloud to her before. She extricated herself from his arms and turned, leaving the room to go and help avenge her mother’s murder. She covered her face with her mask, partly so she was not interrupted by the other Death Eaters or professors in the school, and partly to hide her tear-filled eyes.

She walked through the school, feeling like it was taking far too long to get to the Room Of Requirement. When she reached the hall it was down, she paced back and forth, willing it to appear. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion from her anxiety. The door finally appeared and she opened it and walked in the room to horrified gasps from much of the student body, all of whom had gathered there for safety.

For a moment she was dumbfounded, until Neville stood up and fired a hex at her. She was still wearing her robes and mask, appearing as the Death Eater who had repeatedly taken them to Snape for punishment.

“ _ Protego _ !” she said, mentally cursing herself for her forgetfulness. “Stand down, you idiot!” With a flick of her wand, she Transfigured her mask and robes into a much more acceptable outfit.

“Harley!” Ginny cried. “That’s been you? The whole time?”

Harry stood up, wand out. “Have you been against us this entire time?”

“Was James this stupid? Is that where you get it from? Because you certainly didn’t get your clueless brain from our mother,” Harley said, forgetting that most of them had no idea she was related to Harry. “What can you not comprehend about the term ‘undercover agent’? Ginny, Longbottom, didn’t you ever wonder why a Death Eater refused to have you tortured?”

Ginny nodded. “I did. I thought it was odd. You saved us so many times from the Carrows.”

Harley looked at Longbottom’s bruised face. “I wish I could have done more for you, but I couldn’t risk the Carrows thinking I was being too soft, therefore ruining my cover,” she told him. “Harry, the Dark Lord is coming. All of you, if you cannot handle the fight, I advise you to leave now. If you want to remain, know that it will not be pleasant.”

Everyone stayed, even Ginny and Luna. “What do we do?” Luna asked.

Harley smiled. She had always liked Luna. “We wait for the rest of the Order. They are on their way now. Once they are here, we must fight. This ends tonight.”

A moment later, the portrait that led from the Hog’s Head into the Room opened, and out stepped Lupin, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, and Kingsley.

Molly immediately went and grabbed her children, smothering them with hugs. “Harley, Fred and George will be here with others soon.”

After an uncomfortable silence Hermione asked, “Harley…how long have you been undercover?”

“Since a week after I graduated Hogwarts,” Harley replied.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Hermione asked sadly. “You killed those two Ministry workers and Alicia.”

“You’re only half right. I did attack them, but I did not kill anyone,” Harley replied. She was about to say more when the entrance opened again and in crawled George, Fred, Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet. Spinnet’s formerly beautiful face was scarred beyond recognition, but she was very much alive. Everyone was stunned to silence.

“Perfect timing. As you can see,” Harley began, “she is not dead.”

“And wasn’t  _ that  _ a shock when I got that message,” Fred said, kissing Harley.

Alicia said, “And I don't remember anything, either. They said I got into a confrontation with a Death Eater. I woke up last week in St. Mungo’s with two Ministry workers. And I now look like this.” She gestured to her ruined face.

_ A reminder forever of your ugly insides. Now your outside can match _ , Harley thought. “You were dosed with the Draught Of Living Death mixed with a highly illegal Forgetfulness potion. You and the two workers were given the potion. The Healers, and yes, even you, Arthur, were Obliviated by Severus Snape in order to make the Dark Lord think I had killed the three of them. Had he not thought as much, he would have killed me back in ninety-six,” Harley explained. “If I did not make him think I’d killed some Muggle-borns, he was going to kill me the same way he killed Professor Burbage.”

Alicia spluttered, “You-- _ you _ did this to me?”

“Be thankful I didn’t slice your throat with the Bleeding Curse,” Harley replied. “And it was  _ you  _ who challenged  _ me  _ to a duel, not the other way around. I was going to let you go.”

Lupin was smiling at her. “I’m surprised, I admit. But so glad.”

“Glad about what?” Harry asked him.

He gestured towards his goddaughter. “You didn’t turn out like your father after all. My question is, why did Snape help you?

Harley resisted the urge to smack him. “Because if I didn’t do it, the Dark Lord was going to kill me. He didn’t...want me to have to kill anyone, so he helped me make the potion and agreed to perform the Memory Charms. To keep me safe.”

Remus nodded, seeming to understand. “What are you doing here at Hogwarts?”

“It was Dumbledore’s request before he died, that I remain undercover to keep the students from being harmed too badly,” Harley replied. “I unfortunately couldn’t stop everything the Carrows did, because the Dark Lord mandated that they send him regular reports on me.”

“Why them and not Snape?” Ron asked.

“Because he thought Snape would lie to protect her, just like he lied once already for her,” Lupin replied. “You’ve fooled everyone, Harley. They won’t know what hit them when you go back out there on our side.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. The element of surprise is key for this entire endeavour. Harry, who else knows you’re here?”

“McGonagall and Snape. He left, though. I think he was going to go tell You-Know-Who that I was here,” Harry said. “And I cursed Amycus Carrow. They’re going to be looking for me as soon as he tells, if Snape hasn’t already.”

“Then we are not safe here much longer. We need to-- _ OW _ !” The pain came on suddenly, not giving her time to put her mental defences up. Her Mark was burning viciously. The Dark Lord was calling his followers. “The Dark Lord has been alerted.”

Fred put his arms around her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“Then we need to go. Everyone younger than seventeen stays in the castle. The rest of us, split up into two groups,” Lupin said, giving directions. He did not tell Harley to do anything.

“And am I to sit on my arse, Remus?” Harley asked. “I’m coming with you and Fred on the front lines.”

“No,” Lupin said.

“Because you don’t trust me, do you?” she said. “After everything, you still think I’m not on your side. You know what? You’re right. I am not on your side. I am on my  _ mother’s  _ side. I’ve risked everything being undercover all this time and I did not do that for you to treat me like a traitor! Remus, you see what you want to see and nothing more. I might speak and look like someone you hate, but I am part of  _ Lily _ . That should mean something to you.”

“If she stays here, so do I,” Fred spoke up, his arms still around her.

Lupin put his head down and had the grace to look ashamed. “Well? Come on then, all of you. I’m sorry, Harley. But after what your father has done...it’s natural that I am suspicious of you now. I should know better, but I don’t want to risk more death. I’m afraid.”

“You have every right to be,” Harley said. “But remember this: I could have called the Dark Lord right here since I came into the room and I did not.” She gestured to her covered and still burning Dark Mark. “Now, come on! Or do you want the Death Eaters to find us all here and kill us one by one?”

As their group was going to the front of the battlements, they saw a pink-haired girl rushing towards them. Tonks. She ran straight into Lupin’s arms. “Teddy’s with my mum. I wanted to come help.” She kissed him. “Hi, Harley. Did Remus tell you you’re a godparent yourself now?”

She nodded her head, confused as to why Tonks was here and not with her kid.

“Yes, you’re godmother and Harry’s godfather to our little boy. I can’t wait for you to meet him!” Tonks said. “Now, where are we going?”

“You can go find Molly and Arthur in the castle,” Lupin suggested. “Be safe, love.”

“I will be.” She ran off and the group continued walking to the battlements, where they met with McGonagall who was putting wards up herself.

“Should I ask how you all got here?” the professor wondered as they all began to help her protect the school.

“Perhaps not,” Harley replied. “But let’s just say there’s a nice big hole running from the Room Of Requirement to the Hog’s Head. If we all survive this night, I will repair it. After all, I made it.” She saw a spot that was unprotected and a Death Eater was heading for it. “ _ Stupefy _ !” Whoever it was fell to the ground. Harley heard bones shatter.

The statues were alive, standing before the school, ready to attack. Students and staff were lined up behind them, ready to fight. Harley noticed precious few Slytherins amongst them and was not surprised. They wouldn’t want to fight against their relatives, many of whom were Death Eaters.

Inside the school came a tremendous crash and screams.

“It sounds pretty bad in there,” George commented.

“You should go in,” McGonagall said. “Kingsley, Remus, and I have things covered out here. They need you all more in there, or so it sounds.”

“You’re right,” Harley said. Her Mark was burning even worse. Thankfully it was not on her wand arm, because the pain was so severe she could barely move her left arm. She had not answered the Dark Lord’s call, and he was angry with her. Well, soon enough he’d never be angry with anyone, ever again. Not unless they contacted him via seance.

Harley, Fred, and George went back inside the castle. There was no one in this corridor, but they could all hear sounds of fighting from not too far off and followed them. After a few turns, they came face to face with a group of Death Eaters. There were many more of them than those who turned up at the meetings in Malfoy Manor, Harley noticed. Voldemort had gathered his followers quickly since Dumbledore’s demise.

“Snape!” Dolohov said, his tone filled with menace, meaning Harley.

The twins did not know that and looked around, afraid that the strongest living wizard aside from Voldemort had somehow snuck in behind them.

“ _ Silencio _ !” Harley cast. “ _ Stupefy _ !” She turned to another. “ _ Immobulus _ ! ...Come on, both of you!”

The twins began casting their spells, and in no time they took out the Death Eaters in this hall, though not permanently. They’d waken at some point, but hopefully not for hours. Many had suffered concussions, and the others were immobile until someone cast the countercurse.

They went forward, only to be stopped by Alecto.

“You traitor! What will you dear daddy say?” she asked  Harley. “ _ Cruc _ \--”

“ _ Protego _ !” Harley blocked it. Her father had taught her how to strengthen her spell so that it repelled two of the Unforgivable Curses, a thing not many people could do. “You want to know what my father would say?  _ Sectumsempra _ !” The curse hit Alecto’s face. Her nose burst with blood like a faucet, and her eye sockets were leaking blood like tears. She was screaming and holding her hands to her eyes to stop the blood flow, which was useless.

“ _ Flipendo _ !” Fred cast, knocking the witch over into a pool of her own blood. He grabbed Harley’s hand and the three of them ran towards more screaming.

It was the Trio, facing down more Death Eaters, many of whom Harley did not even know. The three of them joined the fight, cating silent spells and cutting the Death Eaters down by half.

“Watch your back, little brother. I could have killed you just now if it were my wish,” Harley warned. “ _ Incendio _ !” A Death Eater’s robes caught fire and the person inside screamed. “ _ Sectumsempra _ !” Another fell to the floor, blood pulsing from their throat.

“What are you doing?” Hermione cried.

“This is war, Granger. No time left to play nicely,” Harley replied.

Two more Death Eaters. How many had joined in the months Harley had not been in the presence of the Dark Lord? She was beginning to fear that they might be outnumbered and outclassed.

“ _ Petrificus totalus _ !” Two Death Eaters fell, prostrate.

They turned to see who the new voice belonged to.

“Percy!” the twins cried at once.

Harley could not hide her surprise, no matter how much emotional control her father had instilled in her. The last time she had seen him was at Christmas in ninety-six, when he was still wholly against his family and the Order, on the side of the Ministry.

“I’m sorry. I already apologised to Mum and Dad,” Percy said, his eyes red behind his glasses. “Can you all forgive me?”

“Well, this is a good start to get us to that point,” Ron said. He was smiling, however, and the twins looked positively gleeful. “Keep fighting with us and maybe we’ll get even closer.”

“Look, as sweet as this all is for you, we’ve got bigger things to concern ourselves with than family reunions,” Harley interrupted. They could hear more clatter and screams in the distance. “Might I suggest the overabundance of emotion cease until we are a bit safer?”

Fred leaned against a wall and slid down, smiling up at her. “We need to rest between battles or we’ll wind up winded and then killed because we’re too knackered to fight.”

“He’s right,” George agreed. “Just for a moment, to regroup”

Harley didn’t like it, but she wasn’t about to force them. Harry especially looked awful. Still, she had a very bad feeling about staying where they were. “Well, we’re quite close to the Room Of Requirement. Perhaps it can turn into something we can use, like a Potions lab so I can make us some healing draughts...or poisons.”

Percy glanced at her. “You’re going to be a terrible addition to this family, you know. You’ll influence Fred to no end. We’ll never be able to take it!”

“Thank you.” Was Percy Weasley trying to make a joke?

“Yeah, you even missed my engagement! All for the bloody Ministry,” Fred accused.

Percy spluttered,  “I was a fool! I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I — was a — a —"

"Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron,” Fred supplied.

"Yes, I was!" Percy agreed, ashamed.

Fred grinned. "Well, you can't say fairer than that."

There was a noise and Harley turned to see the Imperiused Pius Thicknesse, the newest Minister of Magic, smiling sadistically. Harley had repeatedly seen him between his bouts with the Imperius Curse. He was a meek, simple man. Voldemort had turned him into a fiend.

Harley had her wand out but Percy said, “No, this is my fight, Torrance.”

“It would sound better if that was her real name,” Pius accused, raising his wand and firing a curse at Percy. “She’s tricked you all.”

“It doesn’t matter if her name is  _ Riddle _ , she’s one of  _ us _ , you lying bastard,” Percy said. Harley had no idea he even knew  _ how  _ to swear. “ _ Bombardo _ !”

The Minister was thrown aside, his skull cracking on the stone wall. Harley didn't think he’d die, but his brain would be irreparably damaged.

“Nice one!” Ron said to his older brother. Everyone was impressed.

“Oh, Minister, did I mention I’m retiring?” Percy said to the unconscious man before him.

Fred and George laughed.

“You’re joking, Perce! You actually are joking, Percy… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were—” Fred stopped to chuckle and Harley heard a strange, almost keening, cracking noise. After that, everything happened in a horrific slow motion that Harley would see in her nightmares until the day she died.

The wall behind Fred exploded, stone and shrapnel flying everywhere. Harley watched in silent horror as Fred was thrown into the air and fell face-up on the floor, his neck broken from the impact. His bright eyes were glassy, staring up at the ceiling, and he was still smiling from his last laugh.

And it  _ was  _ his literal last laugh. Fred Weasley was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! There will be no chapter next week, because my real job has an event. I'm releasing a new book! I promised I wouldn't promote my non fandom work on here, but if you want to check it out let me know and I'll give you the link!


	38. Death Holds Dominion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley must fight on after Fred's death, but she's not prepared for some of what she encounters on the battlefield, and discovers even more to fight for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels. Lots of feels. This hurt to write.

There was a beat of complete and total shocked silence, broken first by Harley as she shrieked in such a manner she had never thought she’d be capable of. Her legs would no longer hold her up and she found herself on her knees besides Fred’s body, her heart trying to catch up on what her mind already knew.

“No...no-no, this can’t…”

Harley was aware that George was speaking behind her, but she couldn’t make out the words. Percy was yelling. Hermione and Ron were crying. She processed none of it as she stared down into the face of the man she’d loved since she was fourteen, frozen in his last moment of happiness.

She wanted to cry, but nothing would come forth. Her mind wasn’t connecting with the rest of her body. She felt weak and shaky all over. It was only when her trembling hand brushed his and she felt no life within him that she completely broke down, taking his upper body in her arms and letting her tears fall, never knowing how her father had held her mother’s corpse this exact same way on Halloween, 1981.

Sobs burst from her chest; she felt as though she could not breathe. She wished she could not feel. She had been Marked by the Dark Lord, poisoned, hexed, tortured; none of it compared with the pain she was feeling now. None of it. Dizziness was overtaking her, and she wished for oblivion. Anything, even death itself, had to be better than how she was feeling at that moment.

Harley felt hands on her shoulders. For all she knew, it could have been an enemy and she could not have fought them off. It was George, pulling her away from Fred’s body and wrapping her into a hug, seeking comfort as much as giving it.

“No no no,” was all he kept repeating. His eyes were wide and unblinking, shock was setting in.

Her mind was bringing her back into reality, and it was not a pleasant place to be.

“Guys, the Death Eaters are getting closer, and I feel Dementors,” Harry said, and his voice wavered. “We need to get out now.”

“No way. Not without Fred being in a safe place,” Percy said. “I won’t leave his body here for them to desecrate it. I won’t!”

Harley took a few breaths against George’s chest, trying to swallow her pain. Yes, she was grieving, but this was the middle of a war. She had no time to grieve right then. Moving away from what should have been her future brother-in-law, she said, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m with Percy. I refuse to leave Fred here!”

“Right. Right, of course we can’t,” Ron said. Harley had never seen him look this bad, not even when he had Splinched. “Harry, help me, damn it!”

Harley leaned back against George as she watched the two boys carry Fred’s body around the corner, placing him behind the same suit of armour that they’d hid behind under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak in her sixth year, when they’d snuck out to meet Sirius. He’d be safe there for now. She turned away, unable to think about her love stuffed back there like a lifeless doll.

“All right, we need to--” Harry stopped short, his face becoming fearful.

Harley felt the chill in the air. Dementors. “They won’t hurt me,” she said. No, they could not. Not now. Not when she was already living her worst nightmare. No Dementor could make her feel worse than she was right then.

Death Eaters were appearing through the hole in the wall, and Percy and George went ahead to confront them. Harley, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were left to contend with the Dementors.

The Trio sent out their Patronuses, but Harley just stood there, her wand held aloft. Was she even capable of casting this Charm anymore? Was she going to be capable of happiness again?

_ Harley, if you’re going to give up, do not do it now _ , said her father’s voice in the echo chamber of her mind.  _ If you let them win now, Fred’s death will have been in vain. So will Lily’s. Is that what you want? _

No, that was not what she wanted. She closed her eyes against the spring of tears that were coming now, thinking of Fred, of how he had looked at her the moment they first met, how he had immediately become her friend, how he had championed her, how he had brought out the good in her. How he had loved her.

“ _ Expecto patronum _ !” Harley’s large bat swooped from her wand, joining the stag, Jack Russell terrier, and otter to fight the Dementors back. When they were gone she turned to Harry. “Find the horcruxes. Go! We need to finish this. Now more than ever.”

Harry nodded, and the three of them took off. Harley turned towards where George and Percy went. It looked like they’d taken out most of the Death Eaters who had remained in the school. The fight was mostly outside now, so that was where she went. She looked around for her father. Where was he? Was he safe? She knew he needed to give Harry more time to get the rest of the horcruxes, but she was still concerned that she had not seen him at all.

She joined the fray on the Hogwarts grounds, fighting Death Eaters and werewolves. Giants were knocking at the castle walls, and at some point she smelt smoke. The third floor wing of the castle near the Room of Requirement was on fire. She hoped the Room would keep it contained so it did not get to Fred’s body.

She didn’t know how long after that she saw the Trio go to the Whomping Willow, to the secret passageway that they had taken to the Shrieking Shack. She’d been fighting forever, it seemed, bruised, dirty, and bloody. What were they doing? Going straight for Nagini herself?  _ Fools! _ Harley went to follow them but was stopped by Lupin.

She whirled around on her godfather. “I have to help them! Harry could be going to his death right now, the reckless idiot!” Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’ll go to hurt him, don’t you? Well, lycan got your tongue? Say something!”

“If they are going to You-Know-Who, he’ll murder you the second he sets eyes on you, even before Harry,” Remus said. “As much as I despise your father, as many doubts as I’ve had about you, I’ve loved you since you were born, Harley. You, Harry, Dora, Teddy...you’re all why I’m fighting and if I can’t stop Harry from being just like his father, I can stop you from following him into peril.”

Lupin put his hand on her shoulder. “Whatever is going to happen will happen. Right now, I’d rather you be fighting by my side here than at the Shack.”

Harley nodded, unsure of what to say. It was the most honesty she had ever heard from her godfather. She had always thought he detested her as much as he hated her father. It was a pleasant surprise to know she was wrong.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s go make some mischief, shall we?”

“Sounds like a good idea, Remus.”

They turned to go back into the fray when Harley was grabbed from behind, claws digging into her side. She screamed, but her adoptive mother had insisted she take self-defence classes at her Muggle school, so she was not helpless even when she could not aim her wand at her attacker.

Kicking back and twisting in a way she had been shown, her attacker was forced to let go. She whirled around and saw it was Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had turned Remus. She started to say a hex when Greyback knocked her to the ground.

“No!” Remus cried, leaping forth and sending a spell at Greyback, who dodged it.

“ _ Plaga reparo _ ,” Harley said, healing the cuts in her side. She got up to help, but they were grappling with each other, and she was afraid that a curse would accidentally hit Lupin.

“You have been a thorn in my side long enough,” Greyback growled, his claws slicing Remus’s arm open.

“ _ Stupefy _ !” Remus cast, but it did not seem to do much to Greyback. Harley was forced to watch as Greyback grabbed her godfather by the hair and sharply twisted. Even in the loud battlefield, that crack sounded like a Muggle gunshot to Harley’s ears.

There was a scream, but it didn't come from Harley, or Remus. Especially not Remus. It was Tonks, going to run across the courtyard.

“No, Tonks, stay where you are!” Harley cried.

Tonks didn’t listen, seeing her husband’s dead body in the clutches of Greyback. She was blinded by grief and anger as she ran out into the open...and right into the path of Bellatrix Lestrange, who looked at her with a peculiar smile on her face.

“ _ Avada Kedavra _ !” Tonks fell to the ground, and Bella and Greyback laughed. “Now they can be in Hell together,” Bellatrix said. They both had seemed to forget Harley was there. Big mistake.

Harley was seeing red. Her anger was so severe, her grief so great, the edges of her vision were going black. “ _ Crucio _ !” She grinned sadistically as Greyback howled and contorted in pain.

Bellatrix turned to regard her, but before she could speak Harley cursed her with  _ sectumsempra _ . She screamed, blood pouring from her chest and abdomen, and then disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

“That was for my friend,” Harley said through her tears. She turned to Greyback, who backed away at the look that must have been on her face. She was still smiling, even though she was crying. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she was going mad.

“ _ Sectumsempra _ !” She watched as his torso burst with blood, showering the ground. She wanted him to suffer before he died. “This is for my godfather, you bloody son of a bitch.  _ Avada Kedavra _ !” Harley had not even realised she was going to use that curse. She never had before. Neither had she ever wanted anyone dead as badly as she wanted the werewolf dead at that moment, however.

With bulging eyes and a wheezing death rattle, the werewolf fell over, finally dead.

She was sobbing openly now, barely aware of the fact. She fell to the ground, thankfully not in werewolf blood.  _ I did this to save everyone. I have only watched them all die. This is a nightmare and I want to wake up! _ With a trembling hand she shut Remus’s eyes, feeling how bonelessly his head moved beneath her touch and almost threw up.

From behind her came Oliver Wood and George.

“Who killed the wolf?” Oliver asked, his voice strained.

“I did,” Harley said, barely able to get the words out. “But I let Bellatrix escape.”

“He killed my cousin. Lavender. Thank you,” Oliver said.

George helped Harley up and squeezed her hand. “Come on. Let’s bring them inside. We’ve set up the Great Hall as a...as a...morgue. And Bellatrix didn’t escape for long.”

Oliver picked up Tonks while Harley and George carried Remus. She felt cold, distant. Detached. She had always acted that way, but now she really felt it. She wanted to die, to Obliviate her mind, anything to forget this night. She checked the moon. It was well into May second, and it was a day she’d never want to remember, but knew the world could never forget. And the worst part was, it was not over yet.

There were so many in the Great Hall. So many bodies. She counted nearly fifty so far. Molly, Arthur, and the rest of the Weasleys were gathered around Fred, their sobs were the loudest and worst to hear.

Harley was pulled over by Molly, enveloped in a motherly hug, and they cried together.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” Harley said.

“It wasn’t your fault, dear,” Molly whispered, her voice hoarse.

Harley walked among the bodies and grieving friends, only to see something that made whatever was left of her heart feel like it would break even worse: Neville was carrying the skinny form of Colin Creevey. He was a child. He wasn’t even supposed to have  _ been  _ there.

“Mum killed Bellatrix,” Ginny said, sitting next to Harley at the edge of the hall. “I wish you could have seen it.”

So that was what George had meant. Some good news came from this horrid night, then. “I wish I could have killed her,” Harley replied. “But go Molly.” She managed a half smile and it seemed to satisfy Ginny.

It was at that moment that the voice of the Dark Lord was heard by everyone, demanding Harry be brought to him in the Forbidden Forest in one hour, or he went on a killing spree. As if there weren’t enough dead already.

A few minutes later, the Trio came into Hogwarts. Harley only got a glimpse of Harry, who looked shell-shocked. He had a vial in his hands, and it looked like memories were in there. He surveyed the dead, his face growing more ashen, before he shook himself from his reverie to run off, presumably to the Pensieve.

Harley hoped those were her father’s, so he and Harry could end this once and for all. She wondered why her father wasn’t there. Was he still by the Dark Lord? That was the only explanation, and that would hopefully make it easier for Harry to get to him.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and then at the dead as well.

Hermione gasped, “Remus, too? Tonks? Lavender?”

“Oh, Merlin--Colin,” Ron groaned.

Hermione grabbed onto Ron and buried her face in his neck as she cried. “I can’t handle much more of this, Ron.”

_ Hopefully you will not have to _ , Harley thought.  _ Hopefully Father will fix everything _ . She ran a hand through her dirty black hair, wishing this was all over with.

Hermione walked over to where Harley was sitting and sat down next to her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Who does?” Harley replied.

“No, you don’t understand…” Hermione trailed off, looking at Ron, who shook his head.

He asked Harley if she knew what happened, and Harley told him what she knew.

“Poor Colin. Perhaps I should have been a bit kinder to him, but you have to understand it’s not my nature,” Harley said. “When this is all over...things will be different. I just wish I knew if it was for the better or not.”

Ron wandered over by his family, the place where Harley was refusing to look. The place where the man she loved was lying, cold and stiff. It wasn’t fair. None of it, not what happened to Lily when she was drugged by James, not what happened between her and Severus, not Lily’s murder, Harry being chosen, the anguish her father had gone through, her isolation and not knowing she had family out there, thanks to Dumbledore. Not a bit of it was fair.

She remembered something her father had told Harry:  _ It may have escaped your notice, but life isn’t fair. _

Not, it was not. If life were fair she’d have grown up in Spinner’s End with two loving parents, gone to Hogwarts at eleven, and been as normal as a witch could be. There would be no Dark Lord, no war, no Boy Who Lived. No death. She’d be married, not mourning. For the first time she truly understood her father’s deep-seated ennui. Life is pretty bleak once you’ve lost the person you love most in the world, along with many others whom you cared for and could not save.

At least she could go back home with him when this was all over. He alone knew how she felt, and he alone could help her through the worst of her grief. Two survivors, like father like daughter.

Her Dark Mark kept burning as the Dark Lord’s anger and impatience grew and grew. Each second was a second closer to the end, but she was having doubts about whose end it would be. Dumbledore said Harry had to die. She and her father thought differently. Would it work? Would any of it work?

She glanced through one of the holes in the roof and saw that the sky was beginning to lighten a bit. It was soon going to be dawn. She stood up, walking over to Fred’s cot. He was still smiling a little. Smiling, even in the face of death, that was her Fred. This hole in her heart that began the moment he ceased to breathe had only grown with each familiar face she saw pass away, and it felt as though it would soon consume her.  _ Father, I need you _ , she thought helplessly as she reached out and touched Fred’s cold face.

“I’m sorry I could not save him,” she repeated to Molly and Arthur. “There was nothing anyone could do to stop the explosion, but I should have insisted he get up. I--I had a bad feeling about resting there. I did. And I did nothing!”

Molly’s face crumpled once more. “Oh, dear, it was not your fault. No. It was  _ his  _ fault. You-Know-Who. You loved my boy, and he loved you. More than anything except for maybe George.”

“We were supposed to be a proper family. Fred and I. All of you. My father. My brother. All connected. All finally happy and at peace,” Harley said. “Father was right...life isn’t fair.”

“Oh, we’ll always be family, dear,” Molly said, her arm around Harley’s shoulders. “Your father, too, if he wants to be after he meets us.”

Suddenly, Neville ran into the room.

“Harry’s gone--he’s gone to You-Know-Who!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Remus was killed by Dolohov, but I thought that Greyback was a more fitting murderer. I also took the liberty of making Lavender and Oliver cousins.


	39. Eulogy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once he war has ended, Harley must begin to deal with the unimaginable amount of loss she had been dealt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-canon begins here. Content warning: you might need tissues.

There was a celebration inside Hogwarts. People were singing. Drinking, Eating. Cheering. All praising the name Harry Potter. Harley had eaten nothing, nor had she had even a sip of water. She was running on autopilot, watching the tired, blissful revelers. But not everyone was celebrating. George was smiling distantly at what Percy was saying to him, and Molly was only pretending to be cheerful. George understood what she was going through. He had just lost his soulmate, his other half. She had lost hers.

The Trio were huddled together, near McGonagall, when Harley approached them. She had no idea what she looked like, but they all looked at her apprehensively as she stood before them. 

Potter. Yet again, he had survived. Harley had lost everything, but Potter was still going. Never mind that he was now mentally scarred. Never mind that he had lost many loved ones as well. He would heal from this. Harley never would. He had friends and love. She had no one and nothing.

Hermione jumped up, tears in her eyes. “Harley, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who he was to you, but I knew you and he were always close and I couldn’t figure out  _ how  _ to tell you--”

“Where is he?” Harley interrupted, her voice low and trying very hard to remain civil.

“What?”

“Do not play with me.  _ Where is he _ ?” she repeated.

Hermione looked away. “The Shrieking Shack.”

Harley turned away, feeling the hurt and pity-filled eyes on her. Especially from McGonagall.  _ Maybe you should have been kinder to him, and to me, while he was still with us, _ Harley thought angrily as she walked out of the castle, to the Whomping Willow. She blanked out her thoughts then as she went through the secret tunnel, the tunnel Sirius Black had used when he was an escapee, the tunnel her godfather had used to transform himself into a werewolf and not hurt anyone. Amazing how a something as simple as a tunnel can mean so much.

She pushed the trapdoor open and climbed into the Shack. She saw nothing, so he must be above her. She put one boot on the stairs, her hand gripping the railing, and allowed herself her final childlike thought: that maybe he was still alive. Voldemort had failed at killing people before. He could be Petrified, poisoned, lost too much blood...many things that could be fixed.

With that thought trying to force away her other emotions, she went slowly up the stairs, turned the corner, and felt her heart stop beating for just a moment. She wished it would stop beating forever.

Her father was leaning against the wall, blood soaking his throat and frock coat, black eyes as glassy as that of a doll’s, dried tears on his face. He was not poisoned or Petrified. He was gone.

Harley’s emotions came spilling forth as she dashed forward towards her father’s body, falling at his side, her tears coming so hard it was hard to see, hard to breathe.

“ _ Nonononono _ ! Father!” She was shaking as she reached out for him, feeling his lifeless body fall into her as she held onto him, as if she could magically bring him back to life that way. “Father, please...please you  _ can’t  _ be gone! You can’t have left me,  _ please _ !” She tried in vain to feel for a heartbeat. She could not feel for a pulse. Nagini’s fangs had torn at his throat. The blood had congealed there after it spilled. He had not died from exsanguination, he had died from the deadly poison in Nagini’s bite.

Voldemort had taken her last vestige of hope and happiness. He’d taken her mother, her fiance, her godfather. She had thought he would at least have spared her her father. She thought that after all this, at least she had him. She was alone, utterly alone. The one person who could have gotten her through this unfathomable loss was now also gone.

She remembered a conversation she had had in her father’s office the night before her seventeenth birthday, the night before the anniversary of Lily’s death.

_ “I have always been able to see the Thestrals,” she admitted, absently adding something to the potion she was working on. _

_ He looked up from his papers. “Oh? Because of your mother’s passing?” _

_ Harley shrugged. “It must be. I might have repressed the memory, but no doubt I at least heard, if now saw, the entire thing. I mention it because it frightened Potter to see them. He was so little, he did not comprehend the concept of death when our mum was killed. Funny, when  _ he  _ was the one who was supposed to die that night.” _

_ Severus sniffed. “Well, your brother has always been extraordinarily fortunate.” _

_ “I never knew a time when I didn’t understand death. Even when I thought I was a Muggle, I felt like I was different from everyone, and it was the reality and understanding of Mum’s death that made me that way. If I had been with my real father after Mum’s death, I do not think I’d have ever felt out of place. I think I’d have dealt with death easier, rather than be angry over the concept. I felt unwanted and alone, thinking there was no one with me in the world.” She stopped working on the potion altogether, turning to face her professor. “I am sorry, sir. You do not wish to be bothered by my blathering.” _

_ Severus put the papers away carefully, never losing eye contact with her as he said, “Harley...you are  _ never  _ a bother to me. You’ve never had anyone to discuss this with.” He stood up and sat across the desk from her. “I, too, understood death at a very young age. My father--a Muggle--died when I was thirteen. No great loss, if I am to admit it. My mother passed when I was seventeen. She was a good, if weak, woman. A brilliant witch from whom I learnt many of my skills. _

_ “When I was twenty-one, I lost someone...very dear to me. Between my mother’s death and this instance, I had seen quite a bit more death, but nothing affected me as much as this one passing. _

_ “The thing about death is that you can let it consume you and drag you down, or you can use your time alive to do better, to make those you lost proud of you. I like to think that that is what I am doing. _

_ “Death has no master. Death is beyond understanding. Death does not know love, or laughter. It made you bitter in your comprehension, as it similarly made me. We are quite alike, you and I.” _

_ Harley had smiled at him. “Yes, sir, we are. In more than just this.” _

_ “Death is also not the end. It is, as Dumbledore has put it many times to me, the next great adventure. You are allowed to mourn your loss, but do not remain bitter. Death takes and takes, but in the end when it takes, it also gives back. It gives you a guardian to watch over you, as I am sure Lily is right now.” _

Harley wrenched herself back to the present, as painful as that was. Her sobs were quieter now, as she sat there, holding her father’s body.

“I hope you’re with Mum now,” she whispered, hiccuping from crying so hard. “I hope you and she are having a ball up in Heaven. I hope…” She broke off, choking on new sobs. “I hope you’re both watching over me. Together.”

It was one thing she could take from this: her parents were together again, and this time there was no James to stop them from remaining together for eternity.

“I just wish you were both  _ here _ , together.”

Sunlight fell through the broken slats covering the windows of the Shack, warming her chilled skin, but the warmth was superficial. Her whole body was cold and shaking, particularly when she had to reach up and close her father’s eyes. He could be sleeping...if one could sleep with a bloody snake bite in the jugular.

She was grateful for Remus, that he kept her from following the Trio into the Shack. In no version of reality could she have watched her father die.

She had his blood on her hands and her robes. She didn’t care.

_ I love you, little girl. _

The last thing he’d ever say to her. No more advice, no more hearing his sarcastic humour, no more late night drinks, no more stories about his and Lily’s childhood. No more hugs, no more smiles he gave only to her. No more of his quiet, fierce paternal love that he had seemed to feel even when he did not know she was his.

Harley had no idea how long she sat there, quietly crying and holding Severus’s hand, when she heard someone approaching. She pondered getting her wand out, but what was the point? She’d lost it all, what difference did it make if she lost her life as well?

“Harley.” It was Neville. He stood behind her, she could feel his breath on her neck. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was… Was everything Harry said true? That he was always with us?”

“Yes.”

“And you just sat there, having to ignore the abuse everyone gave him?” Neville asked.

“Yes.”

He paused. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn't know. You  _ couldn’t  _ know,” Harley replied. “Besides, neither Father nor I were ever very kind to you in the first place.” She gave a wavery smirk. “We both wanted that bloody toad dead.” Her voice cracked. That wasn't supposed to be something funny or endearing, but it was his black humour she had inherited and that she had always loved about him. His dry wit made many people hate him, made him seem careless and cruel, but it only drew her closer to him because it so similar to how she acted and spoke.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Harley?” Neville asked.

She shook her head. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be with the others, celebrating? You did wonderfully today, Neville...your mum and dad would have been so proud.”

“Thank you. ...I came because after I knew everything, I thought it would be really rotten to have you grieve alone.” Neville sat down next to her. “I watched you and Snape in school. Everyone did. It was so weird, you know? He favoured a Gryffindor for once, and you were his little shadow. Even when you had no idea you were related, you still cared deeply for him, and now it was obvious why he liked you so much.”

“Not my first year,” Harley said. “He didn’t know who I was to him until I was fifteen, and he still favoured me.” It hurt her even more, to know that he had cared for her when he thought she was just some random student who had a smile like Lily Evans. Without him, she would not be the witch she was that day, and it started from that very first test, when he had challenged her and she had risen to it. They’d had a connection from that moment on.

“He gave everything for this fight. For my mum. And he always had, from the time she passed away,” Harley said. “And everyone treated him like dirt.”

Neville put his hand on her shoulder. “I never liked him. He scared me to my wits’ end. But I respect him, now, because I understand him a lot better. I know it’s too late, but…”

“At least you admit it.”

Neville stood up and held his hand out to Harley. “Come on. Let me help you bring him to the Great Hall. So he can lie with all our other fallen heroes.”

 

****

 

One week later there was a mass memorial for the Fallen Fifty, and McGonagall had asked that Harley eulogise her father. This was to be the first time since the Battle Of Hogwarts that Harley would see anyone from the school. She’d sequestered herself in the flat above her damaged shop, not wanting to go back to Spinner’s End, not wanting to think or feel. She’d barely slept without dousing herself with a Dreamless Sleep Potion, because her nightmares were enough to send her to St. Mungo’s, right next door to Gilderoy Lockhart and the Longbottoms.

She’d been brewing, because potion-making was mindless for her if the potion was simple enough. Some of them she could do in her sleep. She did not need to think as she whipped up Pepperup Potion, Blemish Banisher, and Tenebris Exilium. No thoughts, no feelings, no nothing. That was how she liked it right then. The front of her shop had been damaged in the war, but her brewing station had remained untouched.

Just the thought of going to the memorial left a bitter taste in her mouth, but how could she not? Fred, Remus, Tonks, Severus...she needed to be there and show her respect for them and all the others who had died in the war.

The memorial was taking place at the school, which was more than halfway repaired already. Harley could not remember ever seeing such a large gathering on the grounds since the Triwizard Tournament finale.

Before anything began, McGonagall came and approached Harley.

“Come with me, please,” she said. It was no request, it was a demand. Harley followed the professor into the school, to the headmaster’s office. The office Harley supposed was McGonagall’s now, and deservedly so. Still, she paused at the doorway, remembering the last time she had been in this room, the last hug and kiss from her father, his last words to her.

McGonagall touched her arm tentatively. “Harley, if we could do this elsewhere, I would. I can’t begin to imagine how you feel, dear.”

“No you can’t,” Harley said, taking a deep breath and then walking into the office. All of her father’s things were gone, and it was being aired into the sunlight. When he’d inhabited it, those curtains had been Charmed to stay shut at all times unless he decided to open them.

McGonagall closed the door behind them and said, “I don't suppose anyone ever told you about Wizarding laws in regards to inheritance, have they?”

Harley shook her head. “You really should have a class on that for Muggle-borns or those raised like Potter and I.”

McGonagall nodded absently. “Legally, if the deceased does not leave a last will, everything they have goes to their closest next of kin. In Severus’s case, he did not leave a will, and that means everything goes to you...not that he would have wanted it any other way. His accounts at Gringotts, his magical effects, and the home he had in Spinner’s End are yours.”

“I don't want any of it,” Harley said, aware that she sounded like a child. “I want  _ him _ , not his effects.” She clenched her fists in her black robe, willing herself not to cry again.

“I understand, dear. And I know that you are in no shape to finalise things like this, so I have taken the liberty to send everything that was his to your home in Spinner’s End and transfer the Gringotts accounts for you. I sent everything but this.” McGonagall reached into one of the many drawers in the desk and pulled out a small black jewellery box with a green “P” emblazoned on the lid. There was a piece of black parchment attached to it with her name written on it. “I found it as I was going through the desk. It’s meant for you.”

Willing her hand steady, she reached out and picked up the parchment.

 

_ My dear little girl, _

_ The coming war has taken its toll on all of us, and I am afraid that it is not done taking from us. Losing Lily was the day I thought my heart died. Finding you was the day I realised it was still very much alive, just waiting for the right person to revive it. I am leaving this for you in the event that I do not make it out of the war alive. As much as I do not like to admit it, when my deception is revealed, I may not survive the Dark Lord’s wrath. _

_ I was originally going to give this to you for your wedding to the Weasley boy, but in case I am not there to see it happen, I wanted to leave it so that someone can get it to you. _

_ This is the only thing I had from the Prince family--from our pure Wizarding blood. It was my mother’s, and hers before that, and so on for many generations of female Princes. I did not save many artifacts from my mother, but this I did...just in case. Eileen Prince was your namesake, and you are more deserving than any to wear this. Had your mother and I married, it would have been hers. _

_ I know I’ve told you this many times, but I am so proud to have you as my daughter. You’ve brought and will continue to bring greatness to the formerly Muggle name of Snape. You brought a joy in my life I never could have thought I’d feel. I wish I was more demonstrative and had expressed this to you in person more often. I like to believe that I did my best. _

_ I regret that I didn’t get to see you grow up, but I was blessed to have been able to raise you in your teen years, to see the wonderful witch you’ve become. For my sins I deserved much worse than Azkaban; what I received instead was the most wondrous gift a wizard could ask for. _

_ Whether I am dead or alive, wear this necklace and know that a part of me is always with you, Harley. I love you, and that love will  _ _ never _ _ die. _

_ Father _

 

Gingerly, she removed the lid on the box to see a silver necklace with a snake charm. The snake had emerald eyes and its body was coiled into the shape of a “P”. It was beautiful, and the sight of it, the knowledge of what it meant, was what broke her. She’d not cried in a week, and she broke down in the office, much to McGonagall’s surprise.

The Head of Gryffindor was smart enough not to bother trying to talk to her, she let her former student cry herself out.

“Harley, if I can offer one bit of advice--go home. When today is over, go to the home he left for you. Grieve. Take your time. And then reenter the world. It is what he would have wanted for you. He gave you these gifts, your abilities. Use them well, and use them in his memory,” McGonagall said.

Harley nodded, furtively wiping her eyes. She hated crying, and it seemed to be all she did or wanted to do. It was awful.

_ Control your emotions. _

_ Yes, Father. _

She walked with McGonagall to the courtyard, where many familiar faces had gathered. Hermione and Harry were with the Weasleys, and when Hermione caught sight of her she ran straight into Harley’s arms in a tear-filled embrace.

_ Well, this was a bit unexpected _ , Harley thought as Hermione pulled away, wiping her eyes.

“I’m really sorry about everything. Harley. I always wondered why Snape would do what he did instead of pretending to be on our side longer so he could get closer to Harry. I should have spoken up, asked questions,” she said quickly. “And you--oh, Harley, I can’t imagine how you feel and how you felt--”

“Hermione. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I have a headache already,” Harley said. “It is over, and regrets are pointless. ...How are your parents? Did you get them back?”

Hermione beamed. “I did. It took some time, but they’re back to normal. That’s at least one good thing. Today is going to be so  _ hard _ . Harry has to speak about Remus, and poor George...McGonagall asked him to eulogise Fred but the poor guy hasn’t even said one word all day so far.”

Harley was going to respond when Harry walked up. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

People were everywhere, so they wound up using  _ alohomora  _ on the Quidditch supply shed to find a private place to talk. Harley cast  _ muffliato  _ and they were the secure, even from Extendable Ears. She had not exchanged even one word with her brother since they parted on the battlefield. Not even a congratulatory statement on defeating Voldemort.

“Well? You’ve got me alone,” Harley said.

“Snape. My mother was in love with...Severus Snape.” Harry sounded like he still could not believe it.

“Very much so,” Harley replied. “And James ruined everything.”

“I don't know about that, Harley. I don’t want to know any more than you told me. Snape’s memories, they didn't mention Dad much except for their mutual dislike. They were all about Mum. And you. And me. ...I was a prat. A rotten, spoilt, entitled prat.”

Harley managed a smirk. “Nice to see you speaking the truth, little brother.”

“You have to admit Snape never made it hard for me to hate him,” Harry pointed out.

“True,” Harley said. “But now at least you know why. Had he been in any way kind, the Dark Lord might have known. Aside, he looked at you and he saw the man who bewitched his love away from him. That can’t have been easy to do every day, knowing all the while he had to protect the spawn of the man who ruined his life. He had reason to be bitter.”

Harry looked at the ground. “He loved Mum so much. So much that he gave everything for her, and was always willing to give everything for her.”

Harley had nothing to say. She had already known all of this. She pressed her hand to her necklace and simply nodded. “Not just for her. For you, too. And in the end, for me. I lost everything, Harry. The Dark Lord took everything from me; piece by piece he dismantled my life. For the first time, I truly understood Father’s emotions when it came to you. The ones I loved most--they all died so  _ you  _ could live.”

“Do you think I wanted that?” Harry asked, his voice rising. “Do you think I wanted to lose Hedwig, Moody, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin, Lavender? Do you think I wanted this whole thing to kill Dumbledore? You think I wanted Cedric to die for me, or Dobby?”

_ No, I killed Dobby, _ Harley thought.  _ That was my knife that killed him, and scarred Hermione. I was the reason Bellatrix had that damned thing. _ “That is not what I am trying to say, Harry. I merely want you to understand--”

But he wasn’t done. “I lost Sirius! The only family I had!”

Ouch. That actually hurt.

Harley sneered at him. “If that’s how you feel then, fine. You know, I was there with my father, risking my very being for you.” Harley rolled up her sleeve to show him her Dark Mark. “I did  _ this _ , all to help you! And after it all you left my father’s body in that fucking Shack like he was rubbish, like he didn’t deserve to be brought to the Great Hall with the others! Still defending Sirius, the same man who told you I was no good when I was just a child. Still trying to deny the truth about James. You make me sick. After all we fought for, after all we have lost, you’re still the same self-absorbed brat you’ve always been.” Harley went to open the shed door, but first she turned back and said, “With all due respect, brother mine, go to Hell.”

That certainly made her feel better as she walked out into the sunlight to take her seat with the others who were taking part in the memorial. Oliver was going to talk about Lavender, Colin Creevey’s little brother Dennis was going to speak on his behalf, Andromeda Tonks was going to talk about her daughter, George was going to talk about Fred, and then there was her, who had to say a final, public farewell to her only family. There were others speaking, but few whom Harley knew more than just in passing. It hit her that she had been more acquainted with the Death Eaters than those at Hogwarts.

She noticed many more stares directed at her, but they did not upset her. Most of the Wizarding World had found out, through the  _ Daily Prophet _ , that Severus Snape had been a double agent alongside his secret daughter. Thankfully, Potter, or whomever had been the one the paper had talked to, had had enough sense to leave out the fact that the “secret daughter” was also his half-sister. These people were seeing both her and Severus in an entirely new light. She was sure many of them could not fathom calling the Dark Lord’s advisor a hero, nor the creepy little girl who had been a Death Eater and had taken part in the “punishment” of many Hogwarts students this past year.

Harley sat quietly through the speakers, paying attention to few of them, even the House Elf Winky, who had put down the butterbeer long enough to speak of her colleague, Dobby. Harley was steeling her heart for the moment that was soon in coming: George standing at the podium.

“If you’re not a twin, you’ll never know what it’s like to have a built-in best friend and soulmate. It’s...beyond words. Fred and I were always very different from our siblings. We weren’t into academics, we weren’t prefects or Head Boys. We were...we were unique and only alike each other. We were never alone, never sad. When one of us hurt, the other hurt with him, or stopped the pain completely just by being there.

“Do you know what Fred and I were doing right before we got Harley’s owl about the war starting? Fred and I were planning his stag party. I know, silly Muggle tradition, but it sounded right up our alley: fun and mischief abound. I told him his fiancee might hex his bollocks off if we did it. He promised he’d ask her first to save their possibility of having children one day.

“I think that, more than any other time in our lives, I was never prouder or happier for Freddie than when he fell in love with Harley T-- Harley Snape. We had our shop, sure, but his greatest love, his greatest source of happiness was her. We were planning the rest of his life when that owl came, when we set off for Hogwarts one last time.

“We’d always entered and left the school together. This time, we entered together, but I...I left alone. I went back home after the war, to our flat, and I saw our lists for the wedding spread all over the table. Fred’s mug was still where he had sat. He’d been planning a surprise honeymoon, too, and those brochures were there as well. As if he was coming back at any moment to pick up where he left off.

“My brother was the most kind, funny, lively person you could meet. He lit up everyone’s life he knew with laughter and joy. Including mine. Especially mine. I can’t come to accept that he’s-- ...And to know he’s never going to be there again, I--”

George stopped talking, his head down and his hands gripping the podium. “I’m sorry. I can’t--” He ran off the little dias, and straight at Harley, who hugged him tightly as he cried into her shoulder.

They didn't say anything to each other, because they didn't need to. What they were feeling was beyond words and they each understood that.

George stayed by her for a moment longer, until Molly came over to the two of them and hugged them each in turn. She knew that, out of everyone in the family, they two were hurting by far the most.

McGonagall approached Harley and said, “Can you go and speak or do you need a minute?”

“Might as well do it now. No need to prolong the ordeal,” Harley replied, fingertips caressing the necklace. She walked to the spot George had vacated and looked out at everyone. The only person not watching her was Harry, who was staring stubbornly at his shoes. Harley had half a mind to give him a shock with her wand, if only it wouldn’t seem disrespectful to the deceased. She knew her father, at least, would find it amusing and apt.

“In ninety-two, I came late to Hogwarts under unusual circumstances. And from the moment I met any of the students, I was warned about one thing: the Potions Master was Satan in corporeal form. To recount all the things I heard about the man before I had barely even set eyes on him would take ages. Needless to say, I was scared to meet him, to be tested by him, especially since I was Sorted into Gryffindor like my mother, and they repeatedly told me how much he hated our entire House.

“From the moment we met there was an almost instant connection. He tested me, and I passed. I liked him despite his brash and occasionally cruel manner. He reminded me quite a bit of myself, and I began to look up to him, to see in him things none of the other Gryffindors ever saw. Yes, he was cold and sarcastic, but then so was I. He was much more than the bat of the dungeons, which was one of his more conservative names given to him by ungrateful students.

“During my first year at school, Dumbledore asked him to give me a lecture on the Dark Arts, because he was worried that my interest in them could be a bit...unhealthy. He trusted my Potions Master to not lead me astray...and he was correct in putting his trust in him. That lecture turned into the basis of our relationship. From then on, as the years passed, I came to Severus Snape for everything. For advice, for lessons, to simply just sit and talk. He helped me when I was a victim of severe bullying. He gave me strength, courage, and guidance in every area of my life...even my love life.” She looked down and smiled, remembering how he had called Fred back in fifth year to warn him not to hurt her. He was the reason they had remained together after Harley had tried playing the martyr.

“I began to wish that he was my father early on. After all, who wouldn’t want a brilliant wizard like him to be their sire? The joy I felt when he revealed that my wish had come true, that he was my father, is unexplainable.

“To many, Severus Snape was a horror. To others, he was simply a teacher...or a tool. To me, he was everything. He was brave, brilliant, and kind. Yes, he was kind. He had a warmer heart than anyone I know. He just kept it hidden in order to do the job he had taken with Albus Dumbledore: to protect Harry Potter. To save the Wizarding World.

“My father risked his life, ruined his good standing, because he loved more than anyone would have thought him capable of. He taught me what it really meant to be brave, amongst so many other things. His loss...his loss is something I’ve yet to fully comprehend. Perhaps it is something I will never be able to truly believe.

“You can call him a villain--and I am sure many of you always will in your hearts, if not publicly--you can call him a hero. You can say what you will. But what you cannot deny is that, without him, none of us would be here today. He not only kept Harry Potter safe, he kept the entire student body as safe as he could, risking his neck for the thousand students here. Because even though his teaching position was just for the Order Of The Phoenix, he cared about every student at Hogwarts more than he cared about himself.

“I long ago learned to turn a deaf ear to the things people said about him. Because none of it was  _ my  _ truth. Severus Snape was my teacher, my protector, my friend, my father, and my hero. He was my  _ mother’s  _ hero. And that is all that matters to me, and that is how I will always remember him.”


	40. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley receives a look inside her father's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, so I probably won't be updating for two more weeks, but I really loved writing this chapter, mostly from Severus' POV. A look at his side of some events in the books, and many original to this fic. I hope you all like it!

For once, Harley listened to McGonagall’s advice and as soon as her speech ended, she Apparated back to Spinner’s End. The house was as dark and dusty as always, but it was filled with a new kind of silence; a bigger, colder emptiness. She hated it.

The things that McGonagall has sent were on the desk in the library, cluttering it. Harley started a fire in the grate and did a quick Scourgify on the room to get rid of the extra dust before she stepped up to the desk and sat down in her father’s chair. It faced the fireplace, and Harley looked at the photos on the mantelpiece, at the one she had framed herself recently, the one of her mother and father when they were eleven that she had found in the copy of  _ Carrie  _ Lily had given Severus.

The house was warm now, but it was still too silent with only the crackling fireplace for company. Harley pointed her wand at the old record player and sent a record into it. David Bowie, the same one her father had been listening to when Lily had come over in tears. That was better, and Harley then began to sift through her father’s things, feeling a bit like a naughty teenager who had been caught snooping.

There were his notes and potion recipes, things that she immediately put aside for later use. Her father was a genius, and she might be able to use his work in the future. He did not have much else, not being a man of a materialistic nature. He owned more books than anything. It was only when she came across black, leather bound journals did she pause.

Her father’s private thoughts. Did she really want to read them? To invade his privacy like that? She decided that she couldn’t, not right then, and put them aside. She’d rather sort through the potion notes. It was busywork, and she preferred it to anything that might clutter up her already tumultuous emotions.

She fell asleep at the desk, and this night she did not dream.

 

****

 

Two days later, Harley was contacting contractors in the Wizarding World to help set her shop, which had only been damaged a little in the war, to rights so she could return to work. While she was making notes on things she needed, an owl knocked its beak at the front door. In this Muggle town, it startled her.

There was a small package from Molly Weasley that she took with her into the library and opened. Inside were over two dozen photographs and a note. She wondered how Molly knew where she was, and her money was on McGonagall.

_ Harley, while I am sure you want to be alone to grieve in your own way, I found these while going through some film that had not yet been developed. A few others Professor McGonagall sent us from Hogwarts. I thought you might like them. If you ever need anything, even just a hug, you know where I am. _

_ All my love, Molly _

_ PS--Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, and Ginny say hi! _

Harley smiled and then took out the photos. They were all of her and Fred. The top one had been taken by accident, probably by Ginny’s clumsy hand. It was sideways, and showed her talking to Fred at King’s Cross, as he was showing her how to get to Platform 9 ¾. There was another from that day, this one deliberate, taken as she, Fred, George, and Lee were waving out the window of the Hogwarts Express.

A few were from the trip they’d taken to Surrey the summer before fifth year. She hadn’t even recalled anyone having a camera on them. In the car, talking outside of the fast food place right before he’d kissed her, and one in the restaurant they’d gone to to discuss what they’d found. Fred had his arm warmly around her shoulders.

At Hogwarts, sitting together in the Great Hall, oblivious that anyone else was around. In the common room, she reading Lily’s journals as she leaned against his shoulder. Watching the twins practice Quidditch in the common room while Percy yelled at them to get off their brooms. They must have all been taken by Colin, the poor kid.

There were many from the Yule Ball. Harley remembered how happy she’d been that night, in Fred’s arms. One photo in particular brought a warmth to her she had forgotten she could feel: Fred was smiling down at her as they twirled to the orchestra, and in the background could be seen one person, softly smiling as he watched them. Her father.

There was a photo of the moment Fred had proposed, taken (judging by the angle) by Aberforth Dumbledore. The happiest moment of her life, the day she started to plan her future. The future that was now as dead as Fred was. It was like seeing a ghost as she saw him pick her up and kiss her.

The last photo in the pile made her laugh as tears fell. From Christmas of ninety-six, Molly had taken a perfect shot of she and Fred as he kissed her, mistletoe popped out from the end of his wand. Across the table, her father was face-palming. It was perfect in every way to Harley, and brought back a bit of the happiness she had lost. She remembered him saying that there was no need for them to make the whole house nauseas.

She went over to the desk to keep them safe till she got frames for them when she again saw her father’s journals. She couldn’t deny that she had always been curious as to what he had thought about her before and after he knew who she was to him. Would he be angry that she had pried if she read them? Or would he be glad, like when he gave her Lily’s old journals?

She touched the necklace he’d left her and decided he wouldn’t have left them, when he had thought he would die, if he did not want her having them. She’d read them all eventually, but first she wanted to find the ones from when he knew her. Once she’d located the proper ones, she went and sat in his chair to read.

She saw that some of his entries went on for pages, while others were barely a single paragraph long.

 

****

 

1st June, 1992

Albus just returned from a trip to Surrey. Evidently there is an orphaned witch who broke her own Concealment Charm by giving a Muggle a potion to make her grow snake scales on her body. He seemed quite excited that I should meet her.

“She’ll be a challenge for you, Severus,” he said.

Huh. As if having Potter around isn’t enough of a challenge? Ah, well, if this chit is half as good at Potions as Albus thinks, she’ll still have a long way to go to impress me.

 

1st September, 1992

I must be going mad in my grief. Today was the first day of school, and I finally saw that girl Albus was going on about--Harley Torrance. She stuck out as I once did: tall, pale, and all in black. She was Sorted into Gryffindor (oh joy). Maybe it was that, maybe it was the firewhiskey I put into my pumpkin juice to get through the first day’s tiring festivities, but when she sat down next to one of the Weasley twins, she smiled. And I swear, that was Lily’s smile.

 

2nd September, 1992

When Torrance walked into my class, I dreaded looking up at her. Bad enough Potter has Lily’s exact eyes. Now this girl had to come out of nowhere and have her smile, too? It is too much, and sometimes I feel like my mental barriers will come crashing down, leaving me in such a deep depression not even the best Healers could help it.

“Professor?” she called tentatively.

Best to put up my walls now. “I hope you did not think I was unaware of your presence, Miss Torrance,” I said. I then stood to my full, intimidating height and began the test. I could see the girl was shocked at my attitude, but she was not frightened as most other students are. She rose to every single challenge I set for her, and even had the audacity to give me cheek! Me!

Somehow, instead of being annoying, it was endearing. I remember challenging Slughorn in a similar manner, and he simply shrank away, disappointing me. She’s got a fire in her, this one. I can tell.

Torrance is brilliant, no doubt about it. A few classes, and she will surpass every student in her year. That potion she came up with, having absolutely no magical training, was already beyond what a student her age should be capable of. I hate to admit this, but Albus was right. She will challenge me, and for that I am glad. With dozens of dunderheads in every class, every teacher yearns for a student like her. It has been too long since I have had mental stimulation from any of these brats.

I just wish, as she left my class today, she’d not smiled. It is far too much like my Lily’s for my comfort.

 

10th September, 1992

Evidently Torrance is not as squeaky clean as the other Gryffindors. She gave Albus a list of spells she knew, and quite a few of them were Dark, including Cruciatus. And my curse, the Bleeding Curse! Where on Earth did she find out about these things, living as a Muggle her whole life?

Albus asked me to talk to her about the Dark Arts and steer her away from them. Right off, he and McGonagall wanted to purge her of the Dark, as if her interest was already damning. They think she has a connection to the Dark Lord! While it is entirely possible her parents might have, that does not mean we should disregard her as a future Death Eater. She has some darkness within her, but I do not believe she is evil. However, I was glad to talk to her, as I alone know how an interest in the Dark can fester and grow if left unchecked.

We had a short conversation, where she admitted that she did like the concept of revenge, having been a severe bullying victim. In our brief conversation, she reminded me so much of myself. But when I was her age I had no one to guide me, to teach me that the Dark was not the way to go.

I promise I will protect her from it. I will not see anyone fall into the same trap I did, least of all not her. She has had no teacher, no guidance her entire life. Of course she was going to dabble in the Dark Arts, especially if she was bullied as severely as she claims. That is not something I’d expect Albus or Minerva to understand. I will do my best to keep her in the Light.

 

5th October, 1992

Lucius has done it again. A grand donation of brooms that cost more than my yearly salary to the Slytherin Quidditch team made his little brat--excuse me, my beloved godson--get on the team, all because Draco is envious of Potter. If I did not know better, I’d say there was much more emotion behind Draco’s actions than simple envy.

I despise Quidditch. Lily had, too, until James Potter bewitched her, the bastard.

I was on my way to the pitch when I passed Torrance.

“Sir, what’s everyone’s hurry?” she asked.

“It is the first Quidditch match of the year,” I replied. “Your House versus my House. Care to come watch? You might find you like it.”

She made a face. “I doubt it. Fred and George are on the team and they tried telling me about it. I don’t think it’s quite my thing. I suppose I’ll be in the library instead.”

“I cannot blame you,” I replied. “Were it not mandatory I be there, I’d not go, either.”

“Severus!” I turned and inwardly I groaned. Lucius. “I was hoping to catch you before the match began.” His cold grey eyes looked over Harley, who I noticed was not wearing her Gryffindor robe but a plain black one similar to my own. “Who is this?”

Immediately I did not like his interest in her. I was spending my time ensuring she stayed away from the Dark Arts. Introducing her to Lucius was like throwing her to the wolves and saying, “Have at it”.

“Harley Torrance, my best student. Miss Torrance, meet Lucius Malfoy. He’s one of the school board governors,” I said.

“And a very old friend of your professor’s,” Lucius added.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy. You’re Draco’s father, I presume?” Torrance asked politely.

Lucius nodded, still scrutinising her. I felt obligated to butt in.

“This is Miss Torrance’s first year here. Her arrival was a bit...delayed.”

“Muggle-born?” Lucius asked sharply.

Harley’s black eyes glinted in the weak light of the halls. “No, certainly not, sir. My mother was a Gryffindor and my father a Slytherin. It was simply bad luck and a strong Charm that kept me away from Hogwarts, not  Muggles .”

Lucius smirked. I believe he thought she was a Slytherin as well as he said, “Well then, with your Slytherin blood you couldn’t hope for a better teacher than Severus.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Malfoy,” she replied. “Professor Snape is by far my favourite teacher here.”

Were I not so good at hiding my emotions, I believe I would have blushed. I wondered how close she had come to being in my House. She certainly has the attitude for it. Aside, only my students said I was their favourite.

“Severus knows quite a lot,” Lucius said to her. “Much more than he is even allowed to teach. You should have seen him when he was younger, just a few years older than you. Brilliant and formidable. A wonderful ally for us.”

“That is enough, Lucius,” I said through gritted teeth. I would not have my past exposed to a student, least of all not to her. And I certainly didn’t want him trying to fucking  recruit  her. “The match will be starting soon.”

“Very well. Let’s go see what my son is made of, eh?” He looked down at Harley and smiled. “Study well, Torrance, but don’t let this one work you too hard.”

She smiled back at him. I didn’t like it. He was not the type of person she should form any good opinions about whatsoever. “I won’t. Nice meeting you, Mr. Malfoy. I will see you in class, Professor.”

After the match, after Malfoy made a fool of himself as Seeker and Lockhart removed all the bones in Potter’s arm, I was going back to my chambers when I saw that Harley was on her way back from the infirmary with the Weasley twins. Acting on impulse--how very Gryffindor of me--I called her aside.

“Is something the matter, sir?” she asked, sending the twins on without her.

Yes , I wanted to say.  I think that if I lost you to the Dark I’d never trust myself again .

“No, Miss Torrance. I was wondering what your thoughts were on Lucius Malfoy,” I said, wondering if she’d be honest or say what she thought I wanted to hear. I’d be able to tell with just a push of  Legilimens .

She pursed her lips. “Well, sir, may I be blunt? And excuse the phrase I am about to use: I’d use it whether Malfoy was a Slytherin or Hufflepuff. I thought he was a cold, oily snake. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who bewitched that Bludger.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. I’d been thinking the same thing. I was surprised at the ease with which she had hidden her true feelings in front of Lucius. How Slytherin of her. “Good. I do not wish for you to associate with him or his son. The headmaster entrusted me with your care in keeping you from the Dark Arts. I am sure you saw the report in the  Prophet about the raid on their home. Best to not draw attention to yourself.”

“I did, sir. I heard the Malfoys were once allies of the Dark Lord,” she said.

“That is not something I can confirm or deny, Miss Torrance. I simply tell you this to keep you safe,” I said. “You overheard the conversation between the Headmaster, your Head of House, and myself: in your position you’d do well not to attract any more speculation.”

She nodded. “I understand, sir. And thank you. I suppose… It really is nice having someone looking after you.”

“Didn’t your adoptive Muggles treat you well?” I asked. It is legal for us at Hogwarts to interfere if we think that a student’s well-being was being threatened by Muggles. Of course, Albus hasn’t yet for Potter, but that’s not my problem.

She smiled ruefully. “Well, sir, there is a difference between being treated well because they care and being treated well because they’re afraid. At least I know you’re not afraid of me.”

The audacity of this girl to use that mocking tone, as if she knew I would not do anything to punish her for it! “That doesn’t mean I care, Torrance. Careful, or you might ruin the reputation I have with the other Gryffindors.”

She scoffed. “I think nothing short of a life-altering event could do that, sir. No need to worry. I will never let them know that their feared Potions Master actually possess an at least partially working heart.”

“Off to bed, Torrance,” I said, unable to ignore her smile. Lily’s smile. It couldn’t be possible that some distant relation of hers was a Wizarding family, was it? “You don’t want me to take points for your being in the halls so late, do you?”

“No, sir, especially since you’re the one who kept me here. Goodnight.”

 

1st November, 1992

If I do not strangle Lockhart before the school year ends, I will consider myself worthy of an Order Of Merlin! Why on Earth did Dumbledore hire that great buffoon? Between the Chamber of Secrets being opened again and his blatant ignorance and arrogance, I am convinced I am going to go mad this year.

I did get some amusement today during Dueling Club, however. Torrance jinxed Alicia Spinnet fiercely. Having never practised before, she is almost as good a dueller as I was at her age. She keeps surprising me, this girl.

 

10th January, 1992

I was patrolling the halls this evening when I saw Torrance hanging about near the entrance to the Astronomy Tower.

“Isn’t Astronomy over?” I asked her, arms crossed.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Then what are you doing in the halls at one in the morning, Miss Torrance?”

“I was just...dawdling. I am sorry sir, I’ll get straight to my dorm.”

“That is across the school. Allow me to walk you. Wouldn’t do for a student to be injured or worse when staff could have been there to prevent it.”  I wondered how it was that Slytherin’s monster had been unleashed again. Slytherin had one heir, and there is no possible way  he  got into the school...unless he hitched a ride on another teacher’s head again. I can bet anything Lucius had something to do with it, but I cannot prove anything without asking him straightaway. That bloody House Elf of his has been around, too. Trying to warn Potter. If Potter leaving the school could stop it, I would have succeeded in getting him expelled at the beginning of the year, but Dumbledore insisted he was safe. Or maybe I should take Dobby’s idea and grievously injure the prat. Only joking, of course, but I do wish the boy would grow up and stop acting like his blasted father. It makes it difficult for me to be concerned.

“Sir, may I ask something that might possibly offend you?” Torrance asked as we walked, our similar batlike shadows cast on the high stone walls.

“Ask away. But know I will take points depending on how offencive it is,” I replied.

She took a breath. “Why do the students hate you? They tell me horrible things, and yet I don’t find you awful at all. Is it just me that you treat differently?”

I had to drum up quite a bit of my self control. I wanted to laugh, to curse at their horrid pack mentality, and to tell her why I really treated her so well. Because when I looked at her I saw something that wasn’t there, that wasn’t possible. A mini-me. And a mini-Lily.

“I treat students how they deserve to be treated. You are an exceptional pupil, and I will treat you as such until you give me a reason not to.” I looked down at her, at her open, bright expression, and felt my heart twist. “Aside...you remind me of someone I knew years ago.”

We were at the Gryffindor common room entrance, and I was glad to slip away, having revealed far too much already. I think the whole of Gryffindor House will be the end of me one of these days.

 

14th February, 1993

That does it! I think even Minerva wants to get in line to murder that insufferable wretch that calls himself a Dark Arts professor! He actually got permission from Albus to have a Valentine’s Day party in the Great Hall. And Albus looked so amused over the whole thing. So were many of the students, though there were a few who looked as displeased with the event as most of the staff was.

I heard Filch grumbling about all the confetti he’d need to clean up. I wound up picking some of it out of my coffee. Minerva was so tight-lipped, I might think she’s accidentally Transfigured them that way. Poor Flitwick is being asked for enchantment charms. Not to mention the fact that I have been approached by no less than ten girls asking me for love potion recipes. As if I would ever entertain the idea after what happened to Lily!

Most of my House (except the females--it seems Lockhart has charmed almost all of them) were sulking over it, and actually so were many Gryffindor boys. Harley Torrance looked particularly put out, she seems to be the only female student who hates Lockhart as much as the males do.

He was popping around the entire school today, bringing singing dwarves and ridiculous little things to every class. To say he was disruptive was an understatement.

During the fourth year Slytherin/Gryffindor class, he came in along with the singing dwarves, and I ordered him out. If Peeves can have the decorum to stay away when we’re teaching, there’s no excuse for Lockhart.

“This is a serious potion we are working on, Lockhart,” I said, barely keeping my temper. “Might I suggest you save this foolishness for your own class and stop bothering mine.”

He walked up to me. “Come on, Sev, have a little...heart.” And he made a large, sparkling lacy heart appear out of his wand.

Between that and him calling me the nickname only Lily was allowed to use, I was struck dumb with anger. From over his shoulder, I saw Torrance take her wand from her pocket with one hand, while continuing to stir her potion with her other.

She shot a glance at Fred Weasley, the twin who is constantly at her side, and he covered his laugh with his hand, nodding his head in encouragement. For the first time since she arrived, she actually looked like a typical mischievous teenager as she pointed her wand at Lockhart and murmured, “ Diffindo .”

The sound of the seat of Lockhart’s trousers splitting down the middle was loud, and immediately every student was bursting into gales of laughter. Her wand disappeared back into her pocket just as fast as it had appeared. Fred Weasley clapped her on the back in a congratulatory manner.

“Professor Lockhart,” Torrance called, sounding as innocent as a kitten, “I think your trousers have torn at the seam.” She didn't miss a turn of her potion.

The Weasleys were now holding onto each other for laughing so hard. I suppose it was even funnier because it was Torrance who did it, considering she has about as much of a sense of humour as I do.

I watched as the pompous prick went dashing from the room, his face as red as those godforsaken trousers Harley had split. It was the first time in my teaching career that a student deliberately misbehaved and instead of taking points from them, I wished I had been the one to do it.

 

1st September, 1993

At my age, after all I’ve seen and been through in my life, I was certain that I could never be shocked by anything ever again. I found out tonight I was wrong.

Not only has Sirius Black--the man who tried to murder me when we were students and the Secret-Keeper who betrayed my Lily and got her killed--escaped Azkaban, he is evidently trying to find and kill Harry Potter. There was what I thought was going to be my biggest concern for this term. And it’s more than enough to have to deal with, wouldn’t you say?

Oh yes, add in the fact that Remus Lupin is the new DADA professor. Instead of giving me that job, Albus thinks it is wiser for a bloody  werewolf  to teach it! For all he knows, Lupin is in league with Black. They were dating when they were at Hogwarts together after all. I have to brew his Wolfsbane Potion, too. Please, add insult to injury, Albus.

I thought this year would be difficult enough, but then my entire world got flipped on its head thanks to Harley Torrance. Though that is not her name. Not her rightful name.

I was going to get my student list from Albus when I saw Harley outside the gargoyle, trying to figure out how to get into the office.

“Do you need something, Miss Torrance?” I asked, and she jumped, surprised.

“Hello, Professor. I had needed to speak with the headmaster about something vaguely important, and would like to do so before I have classes and OWLs to study for,” she said.

“All right. Come with me. I need to receive my new student list from him. Lemon drop.”

“His password is ‘lemon drop’?” she asked, suppressing laughter.

I just gave her a look that she seemed to understand perfectly as she followed me up to Albus’s office, where the old man was sorting papers at his desk. I got my list and then Harley revealed that she found out who her mother was. I offered to leave, because that is very personal information, but Albus made me stay. I’m torn between wishing he hadn’t and being grateful that he did.

I was at first concerned that Harley found out she was somehow wrapped up in the Dark Arts as Minerva had feared, until she said her mother being known might lead to Potter being ridiculed, because of Harley.

“What does this have to do with  him ?” I asked, a bit more sharply than I had intended. My heart was racing out of control at what I thought might be coming.

She looked at me and said, “Everything.” She turned back to Albus and said, “My mother was Lily Evans. My stepfather was James Potter. Mother had me two years before Harry and James never knew he wasn’t my father, as far as I know.”

At that moment, I thought certainly my heart would cease to beat from the shock. Of course James was not her father. Because  I am. I had no idea that after that night with me, when I last saw Lily before she died, that she left Spinner’s End carrying our child. Why should I have had any idea of it? We’d cast contraception charms. We weren’t foolish. Somehow, Harley managed to break yet more charms than just Concealment from the moment she blinked into existence.

When did Lily realise it? Had she even bothered to try and tell me? And if she had, I know that I was gone by then, back to the Dark Lord like a dog with my tail between my legs. Harley is going to be fifteen soon. Fifteen years I could have been with her. We could have avoided Harry even being born, thus resulting in no prophecy being told. We could have been a family. Now it was far too late.

Albus broke through my thoughts by presenting me with a photo of Harley when she was barely three, performing magic with a Muggle chemistry set. Much the same way I had shown my powers when I was a toddler, according to my mother. The same way Lily had also discovered hers.

It was too much. Too much to handle, too much to deal with all at once. I said nothing, my mind in more of a jumble than it is right now. I simply excused myself and was about to leave when I noticed a telltale black shape outside the window. My heart leapt when I thought of one of those Dementors attacking Harley, and I mentioned my reluctance to Albus. The fact that they are only here because of Black just stokes my ire even more.

I have been in my chambers, thinking all of this over, for hours now. It is well past midnight, but I cannot sleep. I am torn between joy and shame, between knowing that a part of Lily, a physical proof of our love, has been right under my nose and knowing that I am as unfit a father as there could be.

My father was an abusive Muggle. Were I not so good at Potions, I’d still have the scars from cigarette burns and belt whips on my body. My mother was a wonderful woman, but cowed and weak from my father’s ministrations. I was pretty much left to raise myself, except for when the Evanses took me in during the summers with Lily. I have no one and nothing to rely on to be a good father or role model for a daughter.

I am almost glad I didn’t know about her then, and I almost wish I didn’t now. Almost. Because since last year I have found joy in teaching Harley Torrance. I now know why I was so drawn to her, why she has Lily’s smile and my temperament. She’s done so well without my influence in her life. To tell her who I am would not only shock her, but it would not be good for her in any way.

I am a terrible man and I freely own this. I am the reason Lily is dead. I am the reason Harry is the Chosen One. I have killed people for the Dark Lord. The last thing she needs is to find out that everyone was right about her, that her father is an evil, Dark Lord supporter.

I will make it known that I do not wish for her to know who I am, unless she does somehow figure it out on her own. And I also make this vow: that I will do my very best by her. I will be her teacher, her mentor, and her advisor. She has already grown into a brilliant young woman on her own. Somehow I will find a way to be there for her in what capacity I can. Hopefully, when she leaves Hogwarts and my life, she takes with her all that I can teach her.

I already love her. And showing love means that you must do what’s best for the person you love, no matter how much it hurts you. I’d rather lose her forever just to know she is safe from me and, by connection, the Dark Lord.

 

2nd September, 1993

I want to be angry with Minerva, but if I am being honest, the fact that she told Harley that her father is not a good man is a true one. Can’t fault a Gryffindor for being blunt, can you? When Harley asked me for information, I told her what Minerva did, albeit with some positive reinforcement as well.

And what I said is true: I cannot find one good thing to say about myself that might make Harley be glad I’m her father. Best for her to never know just how Dark her lineage runs. Best for her to have Lily as her only parental unit to look up to. Best for her to live in Lily’s light than be sucked down into my darkness.

 

30th September, 1993

Full moon tomorrow. Time to give Remus Lupin his potion. He and I have not exchanged one word since his coming here and I was hoping to keep it that way: hand him his flask and send him on his merry way to go eat some livestock or terrorise a few townspeople. Whatever it is werewolves do for fun. And then I could get to work on the Potions project for which I asked Harley to give me Muggle photos (though I’d be lying if I did not say that I wanted them for my own personal reasons as well; to see all the moments in her life that I missed out on). However, that did not happen.

He came into my office with a look of determination on his face.

“Snape.”

“It’s been over a decade since I’ve seen you, and all you have to say is my name?” I said. “Has lycanthropy addled your brain as well as your hygiene?”

He scowled. “I am trying my best to remain civil, but I do think we need to talk. Especially after what happened in the halls this morning.”

“Well, sit down and...should I not say ‘speak’?” I couldn’t help it. After the years of teasing, I deserve to get a few licks in myself, even if it is a bit late.

He ignored my comments. “Alicia Spinnet got into an argument with Harley. I did not hear the entire thing, but Alicia started it. However,  your daughter happened to use the Bleeding Curse on her in retaliation.”

I knew where this was going. “My daughter did not learn that from me. Ask Dumbledore: she already knew it before she even came here. I do not know how, so do not ask me. What I am concerned with is how badly Harley is being bullied.”

Again, Lupin ignored me. “Osmosis: in all probability she overheard many spells and such mentioned by James and Lily and retained them in her subconscious. I feared for her when Lily Concealed her and I could not find her. I feared that one day you would find her and corrupt an innocent girl.”

Rage causing bile to rise in my throat, I said, “Harley will never know I am her father. I have no intention of corrupting my child, Lupin, and the fact that you think so means that you know nothing about me...about how much I love and respect Lily’s memory to ever think of harming our daughter.

“I have not been a Death Eater for some time. You know what Albus and I have been doing, you know I have been with the Order since just before Lily’s death. Yet you dare to walk in here and accuse me of teaching her the Dark Arts! I have been doing my best to keep her away from them. I cannot help her innate interest in them any more than I can help her taste in clothing or music. What I can do is steer her away from them as Albus has asked me to.”

“Make sure that you don’t ever tell her. She deserves better than you,” Lupin said. “She already acts just like you, and Lily must be ashamed.”

That was the last straw. The wolf has no idea what James did to Lily, and he would not believe me if I told him. I shot out of my chair and said, “You have no right to assume that Lily would be ashamed! How dare you even say a thing like that? She  chose to be with me; she came to me, not the other way around.

“You seem to think I am in a rush to let Harley know who I am. I do not deserve to be her father, and I would be perfectly happy if she never knew about her Dark blood. I know she deserves better than me.” I slammed the flask on my desk, wishing it was his head. “Now, may I ask that you kindly take your potion so you don’t rip the students apart tomorrow night and get the Hell out of my office?”

Lupin took the flask and reached my door when he turned around. “I only say what I do because I care about her.”

“Do you honestly think that I do not?” I asked. “I know we do not like each other, but I’d like to think you’ll give me a little bit of credit. You might not believe it, but I truly loved Lily, and I love our little girl. If you can keep quiet about who I am, I can assure you I will. The last thing I want is to have her in the eye of the Dark Lord because of me.”

 

5th October, 1993

Lily’s journals. I remember the Ministry left them at the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow the night she died, thinking it would not matter if Muggles saw them. I took them, unable to bear Lily’s memories being tossed in the rubbish bin by Muggles.

I’ve never read them. I couldn’t invade her privacy like that. However, I now know someone who could use them. I just needed to be sure that the entry about who I am--if there is one--is removed. A quick charm would suffice to do it. I found the book with the corresponding date and opened it to that day. Of course I’d remember it: it was my birthday.

I sighed with relief: Lily’s Charm backfired so my name is nowhere in this journal or any others. Boxing them up again, I found Harley as she was leaving Astronomy class. Hopefully these will allow her to get to know her mother a little better, to know the woman I fell in love with. To suffuse her mind with Lily’s bright happiness, driving away more of my darkness.

 

9th October, 1993

I did my first offical parenting job today: signing Harley’s form so she could go to Hogsmeade. The way Albus was smirking at me behind those spectacles of his made me want to hex him into next week.

 

10th November, 1993

Harley, according to Minerva, is being targeted by Alicia Spinnet for the same reason I was targeted by James Potter: she has attracted the attention of Fred Weasley. Yesterday evening I found her in tears in the same little nook I used to hide behind in the Great Hall. I hadn’t expected to see her, and I hope I said all the right things to help her. I had had no one when I was a victim, and I want Harley to be able to rely on me. However, I feel I am still absolute rubbish at being a father. I can only hope I am doing the right thing by her.

And it is not just me she needs the support of, as I made sure of this afternoon, when I kept Fred Weasley back after class. Perhaps it was a bit too much, too fatherly, but I needed to be sure to get it through his thick skull that, as long as my girl deems him worthy of her affections, he is responsible for her well-being and happiness.

If he hurts her, it’ll be the last thing he ever does.

 

3rd April, 1994

I was doing patrols of the grounds this afternoon when I spotted a large group of students sitting in a shady spot under a tree. They were from every House, most of them in the older classes. They were shouting, some cheering, and some groaning.

“Another win!” cried one of the Weasley twins. “Hand it over, Smith!”

A Hufflepuff boy took something from his pocket and walked away dejectedly.

Certainly students were not gambling openly on school grounds? I moved closer and saw that there was some sort of game going on, and whatever it was it looked like Harley was winning as the Weasley twins taunted everyone else. A pile of sweets was near the twins’ feet. Harley was kneeling on one twin’s discarded robe in the grass, smirking, as Marcus Flint, one of my students, sat before her.

They were...playing Gobstones. As if I needed anything else to endear her to me. My mother was president of the Gobstones Club when Hogwarts still had one, and I had taught Lily how to play.

“I’m not losing to a Gryffindor,” Flint scoffed.

“I don’t believe you get to choose the outcome without playing, Flint,” Harley said.

As a teacher, I had to make sure all that was being bet was sweets, but it was so enjoyable watching my little girl like this that I hated to disrupt them. After all, I knew Harley would never let them play for money: she was a prefect, just like Lily and I.

“Torrance, Weasleys,” I said, walking up to them. A couple Hufflepuffs quickly left the group, and the other Gryffindors looked worried. “What is going on here?”

Harley looked up and smiled. The girl never smiled, yet somehow whenever I was around she did so. I think the universe is punishing me. “Hello, Professor. We’re playing Gobstones. It turns out I am quite good.”

“And I hope I am correct in assuming that all you’re playing for are Honeyduke’s candies?” I gestured to the pile by Fred (I am pretty sure it was Fred, he’s the one she likes and this twin was standing a bit too close to her for my liking, plus he was the one who put his robe on the ground for Harley to sit on).

“Of course, sir. I’d not let them use money no matter how much they beg me. You did nominate me for prefect, after all,” she replied.

“She hasn’t lost a game yet,” Fred commented, gesturing to the stones which had reset themselves for the new game.

“All right,” I said. “Carry on. Torrance, be gracious when you win. Flint can be a bit of a sore loser.”

“Oh, I don’t brag, sir. I shall leave that to the twins to do for me,” she replied.

I walked away but stayed close enough to hear Oliver Wood say, “We’re lucky you’re here, Torrance. Snape would’ve taken fifty points in total for each Gryffindor here otherwise!”

 

20th April, 1994

The good thing about having a steady income and very few personal expenses means I can spend my Galleons however I please. Having grown up never having two Sickles to rub together, I must admit that I am going to enjoy spoiling my daughter as much as I can without being conspicuous.

During mail call this morning in the Great Hall, Harley received her first ever delivery that did not come from her adoptive Muggle parents. Needless to say, the nosy Gryffindors couldn’t wait to see what it was and were speculating even before she’d fed the owl who brought her the box.

“Let’s hope this isn’t like Harry’s Firebolt,” Hermione Granger warned Harley.

“I highly doubt anyone wants to send me a possible cursed object,” Harley replied, rolling her eyes. “Hm. It’s from a shop in Diagon Alley.” She opened the box to reveal my gift: a solid gold set of Gobstones and a book I thought she’d like:  Potions Passion , a history of famous Wizarding potioneers.

Lupin gave me a nasty look across the High Table. What now, I cannot even buy my daughter a gift without arousing scrutiny?

“Who are they from?” Harry asked her.

“No idea,” she replied, checking for a note or something to reveal a sender. She glanced at the High Table, obviously expecting Lupin to have sent it, but it was obvious by the look on his face that they weren’t from him. “I would like to know. First off, I do not know anyone this well in the Wizarding World, and these must have been quite expensive.” She held one of the little gold balls to the light.

“Hey, don’t wonder,” George Weasley said.

“Yeah,” his twin agreed. “Don’t look a gifted Hippogriff in the mouth.”

Harley chuckled. “If I was a Malfoy, I couldn’t even look one in the eye!”

 

1st June, 1994

Well, as the Muggles say, one can’t be right all the time. After being hexed by that little brat Potter, last night I had to fend off Lupin in werewolf form while making sure to keep the children safe from not just him, but Black as well.

I am not sure how Black escaped, but it has now been brought to both my and Dumbledore’s attention that Black never killed anyone, nor was he the Potters’ Secret-Keeper. That was all Peter Pettigrew, aka Wormtail, aka the little Weasley’s pet fucking rat. All this time I had Lily’s betrayer under my nose and I did not know it! To say I am enraged is quite the understatement. I had not even known the rat was a Death Eater. He had been a better undercover agent than I was.

In the evening I also did something that perhaps many will say I was wrong to do, but I feel was justified.

Having a werewolf as a professor is dangerous. He forgot to drink his Wolfsbane Potion once, and he turned into a beast who very nearly killed myself and three students last night. To have him here is a huge mistake. Albus’s bleeding heart will be the death of him one day. Lupin is a mild-mannered, intelligent man, but that is the crux: he is not always a man. All I could picture last night was Harley coming to see what the commotion was and being murdered by her own godfather.

I told the parents what Lupin is. Let them all hate me for it. It is not as if I do not know what they think of me already. Neville Longbottom has me for a boggart! If he had been chosen, my Lily would still be alive, and he wants to say that I scare him? His very  existence haunts me.

With the exception of Harley, this year has been utterly awful. I sincerely hope next semester is better.

 

21st August, 1994

The last thing a professor wants to open his front door and see is one of his students snooping around his yard. Fred Weasley was trying to peer in my windows and was preparing to knock when I came out and saw him.

Imagine his surprise when he saw me!

“Professor Snape? But--how...who...you can’t--”

“Loquacious as always, are we? What are you doing here, Weasley?” I asked, locking my door. I had been planning to go to the Cure concert tonight, punish myself by reliving more memories with Lily.

“Harley. This address...it’s supposed to be...but you can’t possibly be…”

The Weasleys are not the brightest bunch, but even Fred could make the obvious connection. I didn’t panic, as I had prepared for this once Harley told me she found out her grandmother’s name was Eileen Prince who lived in Spinner’s End.

“My apologies, Weasley,” I said. I pointed my wand at him and said, “ Obliviate .” I am sorry I had to do it, but I had little choice in the matter. It’s not as if I harmed him. Rather, I merely adjusted his memory so he’d not lead my girl to danger. To me.

After a quick Confundus charm which should buy me some time to leave, I walked towards the venue as I planned, hoping to drown myself in music, hoping to not feel for just a little while longer.

Finding my girl outside the venue was not in my plans. Usually when I look at her, I see Lily. Today, all I saw was me as she stood there, wearing unseasonably warm black clothes and looking about her dolefully. Alone. I cursed myself for making Weasley stay away longer.

After spending most of my adult life teaching myself how not to feel, really even my childhood was spent that way, these emotions now are cumbersome and unusual. I can remember, obviously, the love Lily and I shared. But I never imagined I’d be able to muster up this kind of intense emotion. I never thought I’d see myself in someone and yet love her anyway; love her all the more because of that fact, because she is part of me.

For the first time in my life, I long for that fabled Christmas card existence. When I see Harley, I see so many missed moments and opportunities, for which I hate myself. But I also see the woman I love in her, I see the person I wish I could be, and I see the wonderful adult she will become. I wish that I am not the man I have become, so that I did not have to pretend to feel so little for this child who means so much.

She went to the concert; yes, I broke a few Muggle laws for her and Weasley. It was the most I could do, give her a few hours of fun.

Meanwhile, when I returned home, I realised that I missed an owl from Lucius. I have a funny feeling that ignoring his invitation to the Quidditch World Cup is going to be a big mistake…

 

2nd November, 1994

I’ve been unable to write for the past two days, as I have been in hospital with Harley. Evidently Gryffindors do not change, no matter the generation. Just as Black and Potter once plotted a “prank” that would kill me, so did Alicia Spinnet with my daughter.

She was in a coma, close to death, for nearly thirty-six hours. I can’t recall ever feeling such dread and fear as I have these past few days. She missed her sixteenth birthday. Spinnet is getting a minor reprimand, after even the twins said she had purposely poisoned my little girl!

Harley is well now, and will be in class tomorrow. I hope I can contain my rage at that Muggle-born brat.

 

24th December, 1994

Today could be called bittersweet, I suppose. For the bitter, this was the worst that my Dark Mark has burned in years, not since Riddle almost came back to life through the Weasley girl and that journal. And even then, it was not so severe as it is now, and I am worried. It is this that reminds me how unfit of a father I am for Harley. This is why I have not and will not tell her who I am. She does not deserve a Death Eater for a father.

Karkaroff is terrified. He betrayed the Dark Lord worse than anyone, being a what Muggles call “stool pigeon”, and giving up the names of Death Eaters, including Crouch’s own son. If the Dark Lord comes back into power, I can guarantee that there will be nowhere Karkaroff can hide. At least Dumbledore and I already have a cover story in place for me; I wasn’t so foolish as to openly betray the Dark Lord.

For the sweet, I got to see what Harley’s life will be like once she leaves here. It hit me like a sentimental fool, when she walked into the Great Hall on Weasley’s arm, that she was not really a ‘little girl’, no matter how many times I call her one. She’s very nearly grown. Next year she will be able to legally perform magic outside of Hogwarts. After that, she will be out of my life forever, except for that small connection Potter will be a conduit of. I am determined to savour every moment with her, even if this blasted Mark wants to make me focus on other things.

I caught up with her when Weasley walked off somewhere and she went to get a drink of pumpkin juice.

“Enjoying yourself?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. Much more than I had originally thought,” she replied. “Though I worried briefly that Alicia wasn’t allowed to attend.”

“I would think you’d be ecstatic,” I commented.

She smirked. “Well, normally I would, sir, but I kept thinking about  _ Carrie _ , the book. You know, when Chris is refused entry to the prom she cooks up the plan to humiliate Carrie with the pig’s blood.”

“Not even Spinnet would resort to such Muggle trivialities,” I said. “House elves are patrolling, and I can assure you there is nothing for you to worry about.”

Harley nodded, about to speak when she cocked her head at the new song that was playing. “Since when do the Weird Sisters cover Muggle music?”

Just then Fred came through the crowd, a playful smile in place. “C’mon, Harley!”

She blushed. “You got them to play this?” Fred nodded, taking her hand and pulling her to him. “‘Bye, Professor,” she said, smiling at me before going into the crowd to dance.

Keeping a stoic face has never been so difficult as when I watched her and Weasley this evening. At least I did not have to fake my scowl at Albus’s little smirks and winks in my direction. The more I think about it, the more I don’t doubt that he knew about Harley all along, the meddling son of a hag.

 

24th January, 1995

I went to visit J. Pippin’s Potions for the second time in as many years. After my conference with Harley (she received an unprecedented fifteen OWLs), we solidified her interest in owning her own shop, so I wanted to go and continue the discourse I had begun with Miss Pippin about her building.

Pippin is a bumbling fool and I can barely stand to be in her presence. Whoever gave her the go-ahead to be a potioneer should be hexed.

“Mr. Snape, how nice to see you!” she said, far too loudly. She is endlessly bubbly and it really tries my patience.

“Miss Pippin,” I greeted. “I am here to discuss the subject of selling your shop to my...my most promising student.”

“Oh yes, of course. Has she decided if she wants the building?” Pippin asked.

“Yes, she does, to purchase once she turns seventeen,” I said. “If you could continue the hold until this coming October--possibly after, depending on how busy seventh year makes her--that would be perfect for her.”

“Well, that might be a problem,” the little old witch said, her face falling when she saw what I assume was a very nasty look in my eyes. “You see, only Diagon Alley allows people under the age of twenty-one to purchase property. If she wants a building here in Hogsmeade, she’d need an adult to cosign.”

Inwardly, I sighed with relief. “No issue there, Pippin. I will sign for her.”

“Wonderful!” How I wanted to smack that smile off of her jowly face. We spent some time setting everything up and then I asked her for a price. I can’t do much more for Harley, but this I could do. I could secure her a future.

 

12th June, 1995

I am nearly too weak to write. Putting quill to parchment feels like lifting a ten-ton weight. I am determined to write down everything I can, to purge my mind of this day.

The Dark Lord was revived, brought back by his horcruxes and a very Dark potion that was so obscure, even I did not know of it. Blood, bone, and flesh. It makes me sick to even think of it, and Potter had to watch it all happen. For once, I am inclined to feel sorry for him. Hard to believe that that is the only way to come back to life from a horcrux, bar living on the back of a man’s head, that is.

It had been two months since he returned to life, and I had managed to stay away from him, citing my position at Hogwarts needing to be secure, but the pain in my Mark became too great and, as soon as the students were off the grounds, Albus and I agreed that I needed to return to the Death Eaters, to secure my place as our spy.

He is at Malfoy Manor (why am I not surprised), and I was let in by Narcissa, who looked ready to break. She told me in hushed whispers that Lucius was feeling unwell. Unwell my arse, whatever the Dark Lord did to him was so painful he became bedridden. It is not unusual for the Dark Lord to nearly kill--or actually kill--his followers. I wondered if Draco had seen what happened. Knowing the Dark Lord, he would have wanted Draco to watch.

I was led to the meeting room, where the Dark Lord sat in all his glory surrounded by a few Death Eaters, many of whom looked as though they had been put through the wringer. They were bloody and bruised. I noticed the magical signature of my Bleeding Curse.

My stomach twisting and my heart racing, I took a knee before the Dark Lord, as was appropriate. That or bowing, and as angry as he was bound to be with me, I figured kneeling was going to be preferred.

“My Lord,” I greeted. “I offer my sincerest apologies that I did not come sooner.”

“Right to the point as always, Severus,” he hissed. “And why did you not come to celebrate my return? I called you. Is it because you would rather kowtow to my enemy, that blasted Dumbledore?”

“No, sir,” I said. “Because I could not leave without arousing his suspicions. Since your...departure, I have pretended to be on his side, spying on him and his Order. Had I left sooner, he would have never trusted me again. As it is, my lord, he thinks I am on his side, and I thought you might be pleased with having a man on the inside.”

I dared not look up to gauge his reaction. I scarcely dared to breathe.

“Well, Severus, I do like that idea. Yes, a man closer to Potter. However, you should know by now that every single thing you do should be brought to me first. You are not so high in my regard that you can make plans without clearing them with me first.”

“My apologies, my lord,” I said. “I realise my mistake now.”

“You will realise it more in a moment, Severus,” he said.

I knew what was coming and I steeled myself as well as I could for it. He whispered the curse and I felt every muscle in my body contract with fiery pain. I slipped off my knee, hands and legs planted on the ground, barely able to hold myself up. I am often able to withstand Cruciatus for longer than most, because I trained my mind not to feel it. However, I was unused to being tortured for fourteen years, and my defences were not what they once were.

He cast the curse again, and it was worse than before. I bit my lip straight through, trying not to scream, tasting my own blood. Trying not to think. He uses Legilimency when you’re under Cruciatus: the pain makes it easier for him to see the things one usually hides. I would rather have felt this pain times ten than let him see Harley.

I know I am lucky this was all he did to me. I have scars from previous punishments still, and I know that he is at least marginally pleased with my so-called infiltration of Hogwarts.

He chuckled as the curse wore off a bit. “You always were so stoic, even in pain. You will return to me every night for a week, Severus, until the message has sunk in completely.” And he cast the curse once more for the evening, and this time I was unable to restrain my screams.

I barely remember getting home. My mind is beginning to haze over again, the lethargy and pain are taking over, and my potions aren’t working as well as they should. I must rest. I have to go through this again for seven more days, as well as make sure I get Harley to Grimmauld Place for safety once this Hellish week has ended.

 

3rd November, 1995

As soon as all of this is over, I am going to get Dolores Umbridge and take my time torturing her for what she’s done to my little girl. That is a fucking promise.

 

30th June, 1996

Harley’s shop is going to open tomorrow in Hogsmeade. She’s invited a few people to celebrate the grand opening, myself among them. To say I’m proud of her is the understatement of the year.

Albus requested my presence tonight, and when I got to his office I saw that Lupin was there as well. I admit he’s looking fairly awful after the loss of Sirius Black, and at least now we have something in common: we both lost our loves to the Dark Lord.

“Is this about the Order?” Lupin asked when he saw me enter.

Albus nodded. “Sit down, Severus. ...I have heard that Harley is interested in becoming a member. Is this true?”

Lupin and I looked at each other. It was true she wanted to join: she has expressed the desire to me ever since I brought her to Grimmauld Place. I assume she mentioned it to Lupin as well, judging by his expression. Turns out, she hadn’t.

“Has she, Snape?” Lupin asked me.

I nodded. “She has. Although I would like it on record that not only have I tried to discourage her from joining, I am not at all comfortable with it. I lost Lily to this crusade. I will not lose her, too.”

Lupin was nodding. “I agree with him, sir.”

Huh. First time for everything, I suppose.

Albus sighed. “I understand you both have concerns. But none of us can deny her entrance unless we have reason to find her untrustworthy...and I know that can’t be the case. If she still wants to join, I would like the two of you to induct her. You are her family. We can’t force her out, or we will be as bad as the Dark Lord forcing people  _ in _ .”

I bristled that he considered that mangy wolf her family, but kept quiet.

Lupin said, “You’re right. Well, Snape, we can do it tomorrow, after she opens her shop.”

I nodded, and stood up to leave, only to be halted by Albus.

“Severus, stay a moment, please. I’d like to discuss what we’ll have her do in the Order with you.”

Holding back my frustration, I sat back down and Albus remained silent until Lupin left.

“Now, I think we can use her shop to our advantage and keep an eye on the Death Eaters. You told me Tom’s been upset with Borgin and Burke’s, so you have a built-in alternative for him. I think Harley would agree.”

“So do I. She’d be a natural for undercover work, and she already knows many of the potions they’d want. It is convincing the Dark Lord that will be difficult,” I replied.

Albus gave that peculiar smile of his. “But you have a built-in way of doing that as well. Tom would trust your child if you vouched for her.”

That got the reaction he wanted out of me. “Are you out of your mind? With all due respect, I have hidden who I am from my daughter for a reason: so that the Dark Lord--whom you so callously call Tom as if he is a normal man--does not ever get to her! It is bad enough she’ll probably be using her shop for the Death Eaters; to reveal her as my child would bring her further into this than I am comfortable with. I refuse.

“When this war is over, when the Dark Lord is finally dead, I am willing to let Harley go, go on and marry the Weasley boy, have her shop, become a famous potioneer. She can do none of that if she is hindered by her unfortunate relation to me. It will break whatever heart I have left, but I am willing to do it for her sake.”

“And how do you expect her to trust you not to hand her over to Tom now?” Albus asked. “You are her professor and she respects you. But you are also a known former Death Eater. Can she trust you? Can a teenage girl who has been through Hell trust you not to deliver her to the Dark Lord because she is related to Harry Potter?

“No. She cannot. If you tell her the truth, that will solidify her trust in you. You cannot expect her to work alongside you, undercover, if there is not full disclosure between you both. She knows that you know who her father is and are keeping it from her deliberately. This is not a suggestion, Severus, this is a command. Harley is no longer fifteen and worried that people will consider her a Dark witch. She’s about to enter the most frightening stage of her life--we all are--and what she needs is family to be there for her. If you won’t tell her for the sake of your mission, tell her for the sake of her sanity.”

“I like to think that she has outgrown the childish desire to know who her father is,” I said. Of course I didn’t mean it, but I have to keep up appearances that I am as cold as people believe me to be. Of course, there is no hiding from Albus Dumbledore.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’ll never not want to know who you are. It will always haunt her and it will come out eventually. How hurt do you think she will be if she finds out from someone other than you? You said you hid from her to keep her safe, because you love her. Now you must tell her, for the same reasons.”

I have borrowed his Penseive, and in two days I will tell her. I can only hope that the reality will not completely crush her expectations. I know that I might not survive this war, and I want to spend what time I have left with her as a family if she will accept me as such. If I do survive the war...then we will deal with that when we get to it. One thing I realised while talking to Albus is that I do not want her finding out who I am after I’m dead.

 

2nd July, 1996

My daughter is a Death Eater. It might be only for the Order, but she has the Mark nonetheless. I promised to save her from the Dark. She has thrown herself headfirst into it. My brave little girl, risking everything to save her brother and avenge her mother. I do not know whether to be proud of her or to want to curse everyone involved in what she’s done.

It is not what she might have to do--of course the Dark Lord will expect her to do things I shudder to think of. It is what  he might do to  her . If he gives his most loyal followers Cruciatus, what might he do to her to break her spirit? Will he repeat what he did to Bellatrix when we were but Harley’s age? My stomach roils at the thought. Or will he simply kill her if she disobeys or performs less than what he considers satisfactorily, as he has threatened to kill Draco? For the millionth time since I was twenty-one, I have wished myself dead so I do not have to think or feel anymore.

 

3rd July, 1996

I have been asked approval for Harley’s hand in marriage. If that isn’t crazy enough, it came from a Weasley. Do I like the idea of her being one of that uncouth clan? No, but she loves him and I can plainly see how much he loves her.

We have a new reason to want this war over with: my daughter’s future awaits her. It is as brilliant and bright as I could have hoped.

 

19th August, 1996

I will no longer be writing in this journal. In the past month I have been to see Albus, who is dying thanks to Marvolo Gaunt’s cursed ring. Much more I cannot say, but my mind is begging for me to get it out on paper. What must come is going to warp everything, and it is only for the fact that I promised Lily I’d protect her son that I am even bothering with this mission anymore.

Dumbledore does not care that what he wants me to do will damn my soul for eternity. I am already damned, my soul tainted by murder, so what is one more sin on my conscience to that old bastard?

Harley deserves a long, happy, fearless life. If I have to become a pariah to help ensure it, so be it. This is for her. For Lily. And yes, even for Harry Potter.


	41. Five Years Later...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley begins her own way of healing and keeping Severus' memory alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, obviously, continuing this series post-canon. Please note that The Cursed Child will not influence this in any way. I had this all planned out before that was ever released. :)

“No.”

“But you are in such high demand, Ms. Snape.”

Harley sighed, wishing she could chop this infuriating woman’s head instead of her potion ingredients.

“Regardless of the fact that I consider  _ Witch Weekly _ to be a bunch of nonsense and waste of trees and ink, I’d not be interviewed by  _ you  _ even if it meant I’d lose my career for it. Now get out before I hex you...or get Hermione Granger to trap you in your Animagus form again.”

She watched as Rita Skeeter--who now worked for  _ Witch Weekly _ instead of the  _ Daily Prophet _ after her vilifying articles about Harry Potter all turned out to be rubbish--slunk away like the insect she was.

Harley supposed she should be pleased that her products had gotten her in such high demand that the women’s magazine wanted to feature her. However, she would not demean her worth by going on record with any of their ridiculous, over-exaggerating reporters.

Once her shop had been fully repaired, she’d begun to get back to work, mainly because she needed a distraction. The following months made her realise another reason why her father had loved brewing: it took up so much of your time and concentration, there was little time left to think.

Since the memorial, she had not seen or spoken to Harry Potter. Hermione occasionally wrote, and she still did regular business with Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes (every time she saw that replaced apostrophe in their name, her heart began to break anew), which meant regular correspondence with George and his new wife, Angelina Johnson. They avoided anything personal. It was as if they had never knew each other.

The reason for that had been mutual: they could not be friends or even see each other because it hurt too much. They reminded each other too much of what they had lost, and the pain was too great to bear. Harley wondered if they’d ever get over Fred’s death, but it was a fleeting thought. Her always pained heart knew that that would never happen. Because she spoke to George and Hermione, she wound up with news of Ron by default. It was never anything personal, more like writing a vague childhood acquaintance than old friends and family.

Harley even heard from Neville every so often. He was traveling with his wife, Hannah Abbott, and he occasionally sent her rare herbs and things he found in far-off countries. She supposed they’d be around more, now that they’d purchased The Three Broomsticks from Madam Rosemerta, just a few shops down the way from The Potion Master.

Minerva McGonagall also wrote often, and she saw many of the school’s professors every Hogsmeade weekend. She was still the school’s prime supplier of ingredients and supplies.

The person from the past Harley saw most often was Draco Malfoy, who had regained his good-standing and lost his bad attitude once his father had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. He had taken a shine to Harley for some reason, and they met twice a month to just sit and talk.

In the five years since the war had ended, the only person Harley had never spoken to again was her very own brother. And she didn’t mind that one bit.

Compared with others, hers was the life of a hermit. But no one had expected much differently of her. She had never had a wide circle of friends, and those she did care about had been killed. She’d not been to any public events since her father was given a posthumous Order Of Merlin, First Class, about three months after the war had ended.

So why was  _ Witch Weekly _ hounding a reclusive potioneer with an admitted bad attitude? Because of the Magical Veneer Makeup line Harley had released a few months ago. She’d given an early version of the products to Ginny and Hermione in Christmas of ninety-six, but had much improved and expanded them.

Witches (and some wizards) had no cosmetics with the exception of potions for the skin itself. If they wanted eyeshadow and lipstick, they needed to get it from the Muggle world, which is what Harley had always done. But a lot of the magical people had no idea what to do in a Muggle drugstore or a cosmetics specialty store. Harley had heard of a witch getting detained in a Muggle store called Sephora for the odd way she was acting.

Harley’s makeup personally consisted of black mascara and lipstick, but she knew many others wanted to be able to do themselves up. After all, the world was changing and it was all about appearances. She hated it, but she could not pass up this opportunity, so she revisited her old formulas and began revising them.

She had Eye-Popping Eyeshadows, which had different effects depending on which you chose. Some sparkled like fireworks, others changed colour periodically as you wore them. Lustful Lipstick that also change colour and helped heal damaged skin. They also made  anyone who came close enough desire to kiss kiss the wearer. Flawless Foundation that matched skin tone perfectly and lasted until you took it off magically, Everlasting Eyeliner that never budged, Magnificent Mascara that changed your eyelashes completely. One even made them look like spiderwebs.

They had sold much better than even she had expected, and now she was shipping them transatlantic: everyone wanted them, even as far away as Japan and as close as Diagon Alley, where she sold them at WWW. It had gained her an unlikely fame in the Wizarding fashion world, and she did not care very much for it. It was an annoyance, especially since now the makeup overshadowed the things she was doing in the medical field.

Her father’s potions, the experimental healing ones, had all been patented and were now also being sold to Healers worldwide. A few of her own were well on their way to being legally used as well. And all of this at not even twenty-five years old.

The issue was, she was now so busy, she was running herself ragged. It was one thing to be busy enough not to have to think; it was another entirely to be too busy to get more than three hours of sleep a night.

For the second time since ninety-seven, Harley put out an ad in the  _ Daily Prophet _ to look for someone who could handle the day-to-day dealings in the shop while Harley was free to brew her more complex potions and keep the books. In addition to the pay, she’d also offer them some training.

One day in June she received an owl from Horace Slughorn.

“ _ Ms. Snape, I saw that you were advertising for someone to look after your shop in addition to a minor apprenticeship. I would like to send one of my students to you for an interview this Saturday. She will be graduating this month and I think she would do very well from your teaching. _ ”

Harley shrugged. Why not? Every other applicant she had interviewed had been utterly hopeless. Perhaps a student would be more...malleable to be what she required. Was it really so difficult to find a single competent witch or wizard these days?

On Saturday, her busiest day of the week, she was dealing with customers all morning, so when afternoon came along, she was in a terrible mood. A toddler had broken a few bottles (which the mother had apologetically paid for), a stray cat had come in and scratched up her lace hangings, and an ornery old bat had argued over a price for a potion she had ordered the week before.

She’d nearly forgotten about the interview when the bell above her door jingled and she looked up from the recipe she was correcting.

“Hi, Harley. Long time, huh?”

The speaker was a tall, fairly pretty, teenage girl in a garish yellow outfit. Despite the weight loss and growth spurt, it was impossible for Harley not to recognise her.

“Patricia Longbottom. Yes, it has been indeed,” she said. “What brings you here?”

Patricia was no longer as nervous or as skittish, but she was obviously uncomfortable in that dark potion shop. She placed a piece of parchment on Harley’s desk. “Professor Slughorn sent me. Look, I know you’re going to tell me to get out and I am here only so I don’t disappoint him. He thinks I can work in the shop with you, but I know I am not nearly good enough to pass your high standards, so just give me your rejection now and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Harley held her hand up. “Wait, slow down, and please be quiet.” Harley picked up the parchment and looked it over. “These are your OWL scores and the grades you have been maintaining this semester?” Patricia nodded. “You’ve improved greatly since I taught you in first year. Tell me, do you plan on working with potions once you graduate?”

Patricia nodded. “Yes, I am. ...I don’t say this to flatter you, but ever since that lesson with you, and everything you said later that week, I worked so hard and eventually I went from the bottom of the class to the very top. You’ve met my grandmother; my parents are just like her. They never encouraged me like you did. Yes, you were very mean, but you got into my head.”

Harley listened to this little speech with barely concealed surprise. She hadn’t thought about Longbottom’s cousin since she left Hogwarts, yet somehow she had remained stuck in this kid’s mind for six years.

Harley stood up and waved her wand over the desk. Three cauldrons appeared, along with various ingredients and recipes. “Make these, and then we can talk about employment.”

The girl stood there with a look of dumb shock on her face. “You mean you’re not just going to throw me out?”

Harley pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m already in a bad mood, Longbottom. Kindly take my earlier advice and be quiet. If I was going to throw you out, you’d be out. Now get to it.”

Harley stood up and went to see to customers who had just walked in the door while Patricia started working on the potions. The amount Harley had given her, all three should only take half an hour to be complete...as long as she didn't blow the whole place up. Harley knew that Slughorn was easy compared with her father, so she wasn't as impressed with his recommendation as she could have been. It was the OWL scores she was impressed with, and the fact that the girl was no longer a sniveling, thin-skinned brat with no concentration.

The potions she’d given Patricia were simple, everyday ones she sold the most. If she couldn’t make these, someone seriously needed to reevaluate her OWL scores.

The half hour went by rather quickly and when Harley went to check the potions, Longbottom stood there, hands clasped behind her back, gnawing at her lower lip, every inch the terrified student.

She checked the potions, desperately wanting to find a fault, but found none. While she was certain that complex works would never be the girl’s forte, she was passable, and no one would be poisoned or burned by these, as they would if Neville had been the one to make them.

Harley turned towards Patricia and held out her hand. “I am quite impressed, Longbottom. Welcome. Once you graduate I will give you a one-month trial employment here. If in that time you do not disappoint me, you’ll have a permanent position.”

Her eyes widened as she grasped Harley’s hand. “Oh my Merlin, thank you so, so much! You will not regret this, I promise!”

“Better not. I have a reputation to maintain, and I will not have it ruined by an incompetent bumbler.”

 

****

 

Patricia Longbottom did not disappoint her. To Harley’s immense surprise, she was a capable girl who had studied extremely hard since Harley had left the school. She made the simple potions, which freed up Harley to work on her own, more complex brews, and to complete the vast catalogue of half-finished recipes her father had left. Working on them made her feel closer to him, a single connection that could not be broken even by death. Working on them was the only time that his loss didn’t feel as painful; it was as if he was still right by her side as she finished the things he had started.

Eventually, after she got these finished and patented, she wanted to tackle the Half-Blood Prince’s edited potions book and publish a few new ones herself: works improved by her father, and made by the two of them. She knew it would take time, but that was all right by her. As her father had said, she’d bring fame and respect to the formerly Muggle name of Snape. And that fame would not only come from cosmetics.

The world deserved to see not just hers, but Severus’s brilliance. He’d been forced to stay in the shadows his entire life, never sharing his talents with anyone but idiotic children who did not appreciate his mind. Now he would get the respect and recognition he had always deserved.


	42. A Lycan At My Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen years after the war, Harley get's an unexpected visitor crashing into her door...literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of a chapter! Been so busy I completely forgot to update! Anyway, enjoy this chapter, it's one of my favorites.

By the time fifteen years since the war had passed, The Potion Master was the most famous shop and potions export in the entire Wizarding World. Harley had patented dozens of potions, published one book of entirely new recipes of hers and her father’s making, and had another in the works, plus the Half-Blood Prince’s book, which she’d rescued from the Room Of Requirement during her semester working at Hogwarts.

She gained fame, but never basked in the glory...unlike her brother, whose face she saw in the  _ Prophet  _ every week. If statements were needed to be made, she sent Patricia with them. The Longbottom girl had become something of a friend to Harley in the ten years she had been working at the shop with her. Harley was the brains behind the shop, but Patricia handled all of their publicity. They worked well together, and she saved Harley a lot of hassle. If there was one thing she hated, it was dealing with idiots who could barely grasp a simple boil-reducing potion who thought they could question her on what she did.

When she said as much to Patricia, the girl laughed. “You sound just like him.”

“Pardon me?”

“Your father--Professor Snape. He scared the living daylights out of me, but I always was in awe of him,” she said. “If he could see you now, he’d be so pleased.”

“I like to think he would,” Harley agreed.

Patricia was silent for a moment and then said, “I’ve never lost anyone close till my grandmother died. ...Does it--does it still hurt? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Yes,” Harley said, ignoring the stabbing pain in her heart. “Yes, it hurts terribly and hasn’t stopped. People wonder why I stay alone, but they all assume I’m simply mean.”

“You aren’t easy to get to know,” Patricia pointed out.

“I’ve had some firewhiskey, so I’ll pretend I didn't hear that,” Harley said. “I am difficult, always have been. I needed to protect my heart in any way I could ever since I was three. I lost my entire family in the space of twelve hours. My half-brother hasn’t spoken to me and I’d prefer he didn’t, lest I hex his fucking heart out. So excuse me if I am not easy to love, because it only gets you hurt.

“Father loved my mother. I loved Fred. Love doesn’t stop pain, it only magnifies it. Better to guard my heart now and try to quench the pain I’ve already got. So, again, yes, the losses I experienced still hurt me. I don’t think they’ll ever stop. I do this all for my Father, to make him proud. To show Fred that I am still living. To prove to Remus that I am a good person.”

She saw Patricia’s eyes soften at her words. “Oh, Harley, I didn’t realise...you never act like--”

“Of course I don’t. What am I going to do, sit and wallow till I die? I hold it all in because it’s easier than feeling. Because feeling--showing that weakness--just will not do.” She stood up. “Now, can we please drop the subject before I fire you?”

“You’d fire me after ten years because I care?” Patricia asked.

“No, for that I’d like to hex you, but I don’t need to deal with the Ministry right now,” Harley replied. She went to go and lock the back room where she kept her still-brewing potions. It was nearly closing time, and there was a vicious thunderstorm outside. They hadn't had a customer for three hours because even drying charms wouldn’t work in this deluge.

As she was warding the door, there was a loud thump and Patricia screamed. Harley raced to the main room, her wand brandished in case there had been a break-in. She hoped that Patricia had simply knocked over a jar of pickled rat tails or snake eyes.

It turned out to be neither.

A body--a boy--had been tossed up against the window of the shop, startling Patricia. The boy looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, he was naked, and he was grievously injured. Harley unlocked the door and she levitated him inside, grimacing at the water and blood mingling on her floors.

“Did you see what happened?” Harley asked Patricia.

“No. I was checking the register when he hit the window. ...Is he alive?”

“Barely.” Harley laid the body on the floor and covered him with one of her lace hangings. It would do for now. “Get me the wound solvent. I am not sure what caused all of these, and he might need an antibiotic potion as well. Actually, bring that, too. Better safe than sorry.”

Patricia brought the necessary potions and Harley set to work on healing his wounds. Some were barely scratches, while others were deep gouges. He was damn lucky to be alive. It looked like he had been sliced by claws. Harley knew of only one creature that could make wounds like these: a werewolf. He’d be scarred forever from their claws and potentially infected bites.

Once his wounds were mostly healed, Harley held his head back and forced an antibiotic potion down his throat. She’d like to use Wolfsbane as well, but she could kill him if he was not already infected with the werewolf DNA.

She dried him with a charm and Transfigured the lace hanging into simple clothes for him. “Bring him upstairs to rest while I clean up,” Harley said.

Patricia levitated the boy upstairs while Harley made sure the whole room was Scourgified. The last thing she needed was blood contaminating her potions. She sighed before going upstairs. This was certainly turning into an interesting night. The boy looked familiar, and Harley figured he was a Hogwarts student she had seen on their Hogsmeade weekends, but why on Earth was he out in this violent storm, naked? Made no sense.

The flat above the shop had been left for if Harley had a late night brewing and did not even feel like Apparating to Spinner’s End, or to cook them lunch on a slow day. She’d never expected it to be used as a sickroom. She wondered how she was going to get him to St. Mungo’s while unconscious and unable to do Side-Along Apparition. It was dangerous to Apparate or Floo with an unconscious person.

As she was going up the stairs, Patricia called her name, sounding shrill.

“What  _ is  _ it?” Harley asked, entering the flat. Patricia’s face was as white as a ghost and she was staring at the boy, who she had placed on the sofa.

When the boy had been downstairs, he’d had soft brown hair. His hair was now vivid pink...like Tonks’s used to be.

“How did he do that?” Patricia asked. “How can he do magic while asleep?”

“Because he’s part Metamorphmagus. They can use their abilities subconsciously, like in sleep.” He was probably dreaming of his mother, though Harley doubted he remembered her while he was conscious. “Now this makes a bit more sense.”

Patricia looked dumbfounded. “Great. Mind letting me in on the secret?”

Harley shook her head. “You can go home. I’ll be fine here till he wakes up.”

“Are you sure?” Patricia asked.

“Yes. I am perfectly capable of handling a too-thin teenage boy,” Harley snipped.

Patricia hesitated and then decided that arguing with Harley was going to be as pointless as it always was. Using the Floo Network, she left for home, leaving Harley alone with the kid who had been a stranger moments go.

The last time Harley had seen this kid, he had been a baby, in the lap of his grieving grandmother. She hadn’t given him much of a thought since, too wrapped up in grief and then in the business.

_ Some godmother I am _ , Harley thought. She dosed little Teddy Lupin with a sleeping potion, to ensure he got the rest he was so sorely lacking, and then went downstairs.

Ever since meeting her own godfather, Harley had been trying to make improvements on the Wolfsbane Potion. She had wanted it to not just allow the taker to keep their wits about them during transformation, but possibly stave it off completely. Her father had helped her with it as well, as he was one of the only potioneers on earth capable of making Wolfsbane.

She had not made the progress she had originally intended, but her latest version of Wolfsbane was much stronger than what textbooks gave them. It made transforming less painful, and the werewolf was able to keep their senses better. Soon, she might make one that even allowed them to communicate. Taking her version immediately after transformation also helped ease the day-after lethargy and aches.

Once morning came, Harley cooked breakfast, knowing as a werewolf the kid must be starving. As she was plating, she heard Teddy waking up.

“H-hello?” he called. “Um, where am I?”

Harley entered the living room. His hair was back to normal, and awake he looked quite a bit like her late godfather. Especially with his new scars. “Hello, Teddy. Are you well?”

He gazed up at her with a mix of confusion, awe, and fear. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“My name is Harley Snape. You’re in my shop in Hogsmeade. You...sort of crashed into the front doors last night.” Harley handed him a glass of water, which he took with thanks. “You were very injured, Teddy. Why weren’t you in the Shrieking Shack?”

Harley despised the Shack. If it was not a place of some significance, she would have argued with the Ministry to have it knocked down. As it was, she had a glamour up on her shop windows so that she did not have to see it. Needless to say, it was not a place that held very pleasant memories for her.

“How do you know all of this?” Teddy asked warily. Now he even sounded like Remus.

“I knew your parents. So I know what you are and why you were out last night when the weather was ghastly: it was the full moon,” Harley said. “If not for me you would have died last night.”

“Oh.” Teddy looked down at his hands. “Thanks. I guess I didn’t make it to the Shack in time before I transformed. I don’t really remember anything except the werewolves in the Forbidden Forest wanted me dead, that my dad was a traitor.”

Rage flared in Harley’s chest. Remus was many things, but a traitor he was not. “Teddy, your father was not a traitor to anyone. He was a hero, in the Order of the Phoenix. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”

He nodded. “My godfather told me all about him.”

Harley stood and brought Teddy the food she’d made. “And if your father were here, he’d tell you you needed to eat. Is your Wolfsbane working to keep the pain away, or do you require another dose?”

“Wolfsbane?” Teddy asked, mouth full of potatoes. “No, I never take it. It’s a rare potion and my guardians can’t afford it. I won’t ask Harry--my godfather--for the money, either.”

“But why doesn't Professor Slughorn make it for you?” Harley asked.

“Can’t. He doesn’t know how. Harry said maybe less than five potioneers in the world can make it. ...Wait, are you related to  _ Professor  _ Snape?” Harley nodded. “Harry said that Professor Snape was the only person who made Wolfsbane for my dad. No one else could.”

Harley was incensed. Slughorn was that incompetent? How was he ever hired as a Potions Master? “So you just stay in pain and have no mind about you once a month for, what, fourteen or fifteen years?”

Teddy nodded, completely at ease with that fact. Harley wanted to hurt someone--Harry in particular for being so clueless that he didn’t know how much Teddy would benefit from the potion. He always was hopeless when he didn't have the Prince’s textbook.

“Wait here. And if you’re as clumsy as your mum, don’t touch anything.” Harley went down and got a flask of Wolfsbane to bring back upstairs.

Teddy looked at it in shock. “You can make it? ...Of course you can, if you’re a Snape. Harry says he was the best potioneer ever.”

“Well, he got one thing right. What are you waiting for? You need to drink it, not stare at it,” Harley said.

Teddy’s pale face flushed. “I can’t afford it, Miss Snape.”

“For the love of all that’s holy, are you mad, kid? I’m not charging you for it. Drink. And yes, it probably tastes as nasty as it looks. You should feel the effects immediately.”

Teddy drank the smoking potion, grimacing all the while. “Thank you. Can I...I don’t know, work or something to repay you?”

Harley shook her head, tamping down her impatience. “Your lycanthropy is an inherited disease, and I will not have you going around untreated because of a lack of Galleons. Feeling better?”

He nodded.

“Good. You should be getting back to Hogwarts. I imagine McGonagall is concerned.” Harley handed him a piece of parchment. “Give this to her when you see her.”

“What is it?” Teddy asked.

“A notice letting her know you will be receiving Wolfsbane Potion from me every month and that whomever they’ve got as the nurse now must ensure that you take it for the entire week before every full moon and one dose the day after,” Harley said. “It was reckless of every adult in your life to let you go on without it.”

Teddy spluttered, “But--but...that’s expensive! That’s over two thousand Galleons a year, if not more. And a lot of time, too. Why would you do that for me, Miss Snape?”

“First of all, call me Harley. Second of all, I do it because Remus gave me a very important job that I have completely ignored until now, and I apologise. ...I’m your godmother, Teddy. I do not know if Harry ever mentioned me. Probably not--we do not get along well and never did. Your father was my godfather, and he told me all about you just days before his passing.”

The boy’s eyes widened as she spoke, and a wide smile appeared on his face. “Really? That is...wow! I never knew of you at all. Thanks so much.” He went and hugged her, something no one had done since the memorial. Something she normally didn’t allow anyone to do. For a teenage boy, he was an affectionate kid. “Can I come back and visit you on my Hogsmeade trips?”

Harley nodded. “Yes, you can. Anytime. Now you’d best be going. They will be worried about you.” She then handed him a bar of chocolate. “For the walk back.”

Teddy’s eyes lit up. “How did you know I love chocolate?”

“You  _ are  _ Remus’ kid, are you not?”

 

****

 

Teddy came by as often as he could, and Harley would try to take a break every time he did visit to go and have butterbeer with him and give him the attention she had to make up for.

“Professor Longbottom said you were really mean when you were at school with him,” Teddy said one day, referring to Neville, who was the new Herbology professor. Today, Teddy’s hair was vivid blue with white tips and he had one blue eye and one white eye. Between his colourful appearance and her dour, black-on-black-on-black, they made quite a pair.

Harley scoffed. “He’s got thin skin, Neville.”

Teddy shook his head. “No, you’re pretty mean. Brusque, actually, not mean, but I can see how he’d be scared of you. Hermione taught me that word,  _ brusque _ . But that’s why I keep coming to see you--you don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.

“Everyone but Harry is on tiptoes around me, because I’m a werewolf and because my parents died. I hate it, but you don’t. You even scolded me when I broke that ceramic cauldron last month.”

She laughed a little. “Well, I was angry with you, and you really are a klutz, kid. Look, you cannot help your lycanthropy. You were born with it, you did not choose it. And I am not going to mollycoddle you because you are an orphan. So am I, and I don’t expect anyone to treat me differently because of it.”

Teddy nodded. “So, I like you. We’re a lot alike. I didn't tell anyone I see you, because if Harry doesn’t like you that might upset him. Besides, I like keeping our talks just to myself.”

Over the past few months, Harley had been a sort of counselor to the kid, helping him with homework, making friends, and he told her how he hated being typecast as a Hufflepuff. It was a role she was unused to, but she remembered when she was his age, how Severus’s talks with her were not only appreciated, but nearly necessary. They’d helped her, and she thought if she could help Teddy the same way, she’d feel a lot better about herself at the end of the day.

“What’s that?” he’d asked her that day, pointing to her necklace. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“The snake charm was my grandmother’s--Eileen Prince. The ring was...my engagement ring.” She’d added it there around the ten year anniversary of the Battle. It was too painful to continue wearing on her finger. “The Battle took a lot from everyone, Teddy.”

The boy nodded sadly. “Yeah. It did. Harry says you have to let it go but...I’m still mad the Voldemort took my mum and dad.”

Harley put her arm around his shoulders. “Believe me...I am, too.”


	43. The Potions Mistress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley receives an owl from Headmistress McGonagall for tea...nineteen years later.

Summer 2017

Harley had learned how to like her life despite the empty pit she had in her heart. She ran her business, spent time with her godson, became godmother to Draco Malfoy’s little boy Scorpius, and even spent some time in the Muggle world, keeping her family’s love of music alive. She liked to think that her parents would enjoy some of the music that came about with the turn of the century and the years that followed.

One could say that her life was routine and predictable, and it was. Similar to how her father had lived after losing Lily, she desired that routine. It kept her sane.

However, in the Wizarding World, routine was never meant to last. One day she received an owl from McGonagall that asked for her presence for tea the next day at Hogwarts. Something was odd. She and McGonagall wrote, but never met in person. Why was the old witch suddenly desiring her company after nineteen years?

“Why do you think there’s a bad reason? Maybe she’s retiring and wants to say goodbye,” Patricia suggested.

“Your unending optimism is trying my patience,” Harley replied as she readied herself for the tea at the school. She had not been back there since the memorial, and didn’t care to. Her last memories of the place were anything but happy. Going back to the place where Fred and Remus died for the first time was going to test her as badly as that damned dilapidated building did across from her shop.

“And aside, I think nothing short of death will make Minerva McGonagall retire. In fact, considering Professor Binns, that might not even stop her!”

Harley put on her lightest summer cloak--black, as always--and set out for the castle, halfheartedly considering using the Honeyduke’s trapdoor just for fun. She didn’t, and as she came upon the school, she was taken aback by its beauty just as she had been twenty-five years ago, when she had been fourteen. The damage of the war was nonexistent, nothing remained of that horrible time except for the memorial statue in the courtyard.

It was a phoenix rising from the ashes and the names of everyone who had died were etched in the base. Before going to the doors, Harley bent down to read them, tears prickling behind her eyes. They’d even included Crabbe, by all means a child who was just doing what his parents told him to.

Her father’s name was near the top, and her skin prickled as her fingertip traced it. She held onto the necklace with her other hand, imagining she could feel warmth from it. She suddenly felt as if she was a teenager again, that these nineteen years had not passed at all.

“Hello, Harley. I figured you’d be here.”

She jumped, having not heard someone approach.  _ Some double-agent _ , she thought, standing to greet McGonagall, who had aged greatly since Harley had last seen her.

“Hello, Headmistress. A pleasure to see you,” Harley said.

“And you. You know you needed to never wait for a formal invitation,” McGonagall said. “It would have been nice to actually see you once in all this time.”

“You’ll forgive me, ma’am, but this please no longers holds such happy memories for me and I was not in any rush to return,” Harley said honestly.

She followed her former professor into the castle, her body and mind reliving walking through them that first time, following Hagrid, wondering what House she would be in, dreading the tests the next day to determine her class placement.

_ A high ceiling bewitched to resemble the beautiful night outside. A thousand kids chattering excitedly in hushed voices. Floating candles. A breeze ruffling her hair, magicked like the ceiling. Dumbledore announcing her late arrival to the others to prevent rumours. The Hat telling her her father was alive, telling the world that she was a Gryffindor. Fred Weasley cheering for her inclusion to their House. And a pair of black eyes cautiously meeting hers across the High Table, assessing, calculating. Seeing in her a mother she had never known, a woman he would never forget. _

“You’ll see we didn’t change much.” McGonagall’s voice pierced through her vivid memory. “Well, the castle really hasn’t changed at all since it was built.”

“It still feels like home,” Harley commented. She wondered why they were not going to McGonagall’s office, unless the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black had begun acting up again. He could be a downright arse at times. When her father had been headmaster, he had argued with the other Slytherin headmaster quite often. Dumbledore’s portrait had found it amusing.

The Great Hall looked odd being so empty. Harley was used to the controlled chaos of mealtime, or the quiet nervousness of exams. This was a different experience. It looked expectant as though it were just waiting for the next term to begin.

Harley was invited to sit with McGonagall at the High Table, something she felt odd doing. “I feel like someone’s going to come scold me,” she admitted. “Namely you. You never really liked me when I was a child, did you?”

“Nonsense. I feared for you, is all. Even before I knew you were Severus’s. Concealed, brilliant, bursting with power but had nowhere to direct it, especially after you became a bullying target. I didn’t want to see you go down the wrong path, and Severus didn’t let that happen. You were the best thing to ever happen to him, as was he to you.

“I remember your graduation day. It was then I realised just how well of a job he had done with you. I taught your father. I saw him grow up; your mother, too. It was a point of pride for me to see two of my students’ child leave Hogwarts as Outstanding Student.”

Harley was saved from having to respond by Winky, who was still working at the school. She brought them their tea.

“Winky, I had no idea you were still here,” Harley said. “How are you?”

She hiccuped. “Miserable!” And she Apparated with a noisy crack.

Harley chuckled. “Nice to see some other things haven’t changed.”

The conversation turned towards simpler things. Harley expanded on her plans for publishing another potions book, before seeing if the original author’s estate would let her republish  _ Advanced Potion Making _ as the Half-Blood Prince’s corrections.

Then talk turned to the school, which had undergone a few staff changes; those included Neville Longbottom as the Herbology professor and a new Transfigurations teacher. The most shocking part of the stories was that Slughorn was now retiring, as was the Transfigurations professor. At the same time.

“And that left us in a bit of a bind. Thankfully, we quickly found a Transfigurations professor--Millicent Bulstrode, she was in Harry’s year. She’ll also take over as Head of Slytherin House.” McGonagall paused, looking at Harley. “Which means we are short of a Potions professor and Head of Gryffindor.”

“What about Neville as a Head of House?” Harley asked. Privately, she didn't think he could be a proper Head, but that wasn't her business.

McGonagall smiled. “Oh dear, we love Neville here, but he is far too kind to be a Head of House. No one would take him seriously. No, we need a Gryffindor who is also excellent at Potions and someone whom the students will respect, whether they like it or not.”

It was then Harley realised the real reason she had been invited to tea with the Headmistress.

“No. No way. Sorry, but you’d be wasting your breath to proceed further,” Harley said. “I know what you are going to ask me, and the answer is never in a million years.”

“At least let me speak before you deny the offer I have not even made yet,” McGonagall said, standing up. “We need someone reliable.”

“There are plenty of potioneers out there. Find one,” Harley said, also standing. “I’ll even put out some feelers for you: ‘they’ll give you a signing bonus if you’re a Gryffindor’.”

She went to leave, but McGonagall stopped her.

“Harley. The students need someone competent. They need someone more than competent. Not to speak ill of my colleagues, but Horace was...well…”

“An incompetent, half-arsed, easy to please dunderhead?” Harley supplied.

“You said it, not I,” McGonagall replied with a small smile. “So you see why I’d like someone better. Someone more like your father.”

“You’re trying to placate me and it will not work,” Harley said.

“Look at what you did for the Longbottom girl. Look at how you taught in the DA. You are the natural choice for this. And I never thought I’d say this, but it is high time there is another Snape in the dungeons.” The headmistress put her hand on Harley’s shoulder. “Consider it just for one year, one term. Until I can find a permanent replacement.”

Harley sighed. “How long do I have to consider?”

“Not long. Because if we do not find someone soon, we may have to cancel Potions for the year,” McGonagall admitted. “By the way, this year we are also using your book for the seventh years and will from now on.”

“Still trying to butter me up, are you?” Harley sighed and leaned against the table. “You can’t really be considering cancelling Potions class, can you? The students need it, especially for their OWLs and NEWTs.”

“If we cannot find a professor, we have a choice to either cancel the class or get someone from the Ministry. While I’m sure Minister Granger wouldn’t send us another Umbridge, I still don’t want the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts again,” McGonagall said.

Just the thought brought a bad taste to Harley’s mouth. She still had a faded scar on her hand from Umbridge.

“Damn my mother’s bleeding heart that I apparently inherited,” she muttered. “All right. One year. That’s all. And I will have Patricia help search for a replacement.”

McGonagall smiled. She knew all along Harley would agree. “Your father would be so excited.”

“I think Father is looking down right now and shouting ‘don’t do it’ and ‘turn back before it is too late’.”

“Come with me. We can get your contract signed today.” The old lady looked positively gleeful and mischievous.

_ They underestimate us Gryffindors: we can be much worse than Slytherins when we want to, _ Harley thought as she followed the headmistress out of the Great Hall.

On the way to her office, they were stopped by a middle-aged witch who looked flustered.

“Sandra, perfect timing,” McGonagall said. “Harley, this is the former Head of Gryffindor, Sandra Anderson. Sandra, this is the new Head of House. Are your resignation papers all signed and on my desk?”

Sandra nodded. “I do apologise for leaving you like this, but it’s not every day that your husband gets the opportunity to travel with a Scamander. ...Frankly, I think that bloody man in the portrait wanted to drive me out. He was especially snarky today.”

McGonagall waved a negligent hand. “That’s just how he is. You get used to him.”

“Well, I’m glad I don't have to find out. I don’t know how you deal with him!” She inclined her head to Harley. “You’re doing Potions as well?” Harley nodded. “Good luck. That portrait in the office will drive you batty. No wonder Horace used a different office.”

She walked away and Harley wondered if she wasn’t a bit mad. Nineteen years presiding over a bunch of Gryffindors had to take its toll on one’s mind. Or she was right and Professor Black’s portrait was being especially nasty lately. He might have had his portrait added to the office adjacent to the Potions classroom. That  _ was  _ his old office. Slughorn had used it after him, and her father did after Slughorn. When Slughorn returned, he had demanded a bigger office.

McGonagall gave her password to the gargoyle and they went up the stairs to the bright office, where the portraits of previous headmasters and mistresses presided.

The first one she noticed was one of the two largest, both directly behind the desk. Dumbledore, smiling as goofily as he had when he’d been alive. The other large one was empty, its painted resident apparently off to visit another portrait of theirs.

“Harley, how lovely to see you!” Portrait Dumbledore said, clapping his hands. “Joining our ranks I see.”

Twenty years had not sufficed to quell her rage at the old headmaster for his deception and blatant use of her father.

“With all due respect, sir, bite me,” Harley snapped. The portrait just laughed.

McGonagall watched them with some amusement. “Albus, where’s your neighbour? Terrorising the elves who are fixing up the dungeon office?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Would he be anywhere else at this time?”

“Go get him for me, will you? He’ll want to see this.” McGonagall began warding spells over the contract of Harley’s employment.

The woman felt as if she had been lured into a trap as she read over the contract, which was for ‘as long as the professor wants to be employed’. It felt like a trick, it felt very wrong. She still felt like a new graduate sometimes, not a professor. She could only imagine what her father had felt like when he signed up to be a professor at only twenty-one.

She signed her name and dated the document. As she was writing the last flourish, she heard something that made her feel as if she was really going mad.

“Well, well. And here I thought Albus was the first portrait to go senile. It’s good to see you, little girl.”

The portrait next to Dumbledore’s was no longer empty. Painted inside was the memory, the essence, of Severus Snape. Harley had not thought they’d give him a portrait, since his appointment had come because of his undercover efforts in the war.

“Father!” Harley cried, shock momentarily rendering her unable to say much more. Why hadn’t anyone told her he had a portrait? While she knew it wasn’t really him, it would have eased her grief in the months following the war.

“Before you go blaming Minerva for anything, I asked her not to tell you about the portrait. I did not want you to get too attached to a painting,” Severus said, knowing what she was thinking and feeling as well as he always had. “But I admit I am now going to be quite glad to see you every day again. As possible as it is for paint to feel, I have missed you.”

Harley hastily wiped her eyes, feeling like a child once more. “I’ve missed you, Father.”

“I asked Minerva to keep me updated as to what was going on in your life,” he continued. “My brilliant daughter, the most famous potioneer in the Wizarding World.”

“I didn't do it alone,” she said. “You were with me all the way, just not physically.”

Severus smiled, looking kinder than she had ever seen him. “That’s true; I am always with you, Harley.”

“Even more so now,” spoke up Dumbledore. “He’s got a portrait in the dungeon office you’ll be using.”

She turned to McGonagall. “And if I hadn't agreed to come work here, would you have kept this from me forever?”

“No, of course not. I just didn't tell you first so you didn’t have an ulterior motive in remaining at Hogwarts.” The old lady smiled. “I would have brought you up before you left.”

It looked like being back at Hogwarts was going to feel more like home than ever.

As Harley was about to leave, she bid farewell to her new boss, her old headmaster, and her father.

Severus smirked at her and said, “See you in September, Professor Snape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write! I hope you guys enjoyed it as well! xo


	44. Family *or* Harley Meets the Next Gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title indicates, Harley is introduced to the next generation.

Harley was convinced that, by the time she had set up her office and living quarters at Hogwarts, she was clinically insane. What was she doing back here? In what way was she qualified to lead the Gryffindors? She had a wonderful, self-made career. She should quit immediately, let Potions be cancelled. They were probably all hopeless anyway.

She arrived the day before term began to set up her things. She had already spent weeks making lesson plans, taking things from her father’s old notes that she had kept, never having the heart to throw them away.

She’d hired another shopgirl, but made sure that once a week she could go to her shop and take care of personal orders throughout the rest of the week. This was her brand, she was not going to see it fail for any reason.

At the moment she was in her office, replacing the ingredients and jars of things that, according to her brother, had scared the living daylights out of most students. Slughorn had made this office far too...plain. For lack of a better word. Her personal chambers she did not do much to, aside from bringing some personal photographs and her parents’ journal collection. She didn’t plan on being there long, after all. No need to dress it up.

While she was in the middle of redecorating, she heard someone come in. Turning, she regarded the now tall and fairly good-looking Neville Longbottom.

“It’s true,” he said, eyes wide. “I thought Minerva and my sister were playing a joke on me.”

“Hello to you, too, Longbottom,” Harley replied, using her wand to send another jar up to the top of the shelving.

“Sorry...I just...at first it was McGonagall, mentioning ‘Professor Snape’ in the present tense. I thought I was crazy. Then my sister wrote, ‘Ready for another Snape in the dungeons?’ It took me a minute to realise what they meant,” Neville said.

Harley held her arms out, black fabric billowing. “Well, here I am: Professor Snape, at the Gryffindors’ service. Good to see you, Longbottom.”

He was still hanging around her threshold, hand on the doorframe.

“Is there something else?” Harley asked.

“I just… Are you qualified for this?” Neville asked. “I’m not doubting your potion skills, of course. I meant your teaching skills, being that you traumatised my sister in ninety-five? You’re going to be just like your dad--and while he was a hero, he was a terrible teacher. We don’t need anyone feeling like I did when I left his class.”

Harley stepped forward, purposely keeping her wand out. “Are you finished, Longbottom? Because lest you forget, your sister was inspired by me to do better, she’s a partner in The Potion Master now. And you were a hazard in class, injuring yourself from your very first day and nearly injuring others as well. You only got a decent grade by cheating--and yes, having Hermione tell you what to do  _ is  _ cheating, especially when the directions were right in front of your face!

“My father had shortcomings, of that I am well aware. But he was a brilliant professor, teaching everyone potion recipes he improved, when he could have kept his discoveries to himself. He taught here to protect us all, and he continued to do that as headmaster. He did not just give the best years of his life to protect Harry, he did it for every student who walked through these halls. Your ungrateful arse does not get to criticise him! Now get out of my office, because I do not wish to be the first professor fired before term for hexing a colleague!”

She watched as Neville scooted out of her office, nerves flaring. She had not had to defend her father to anyone for nineteen years. Potter’s vindication of him was enough to keep the naysayers away. As soon as she was back in this place, there she was, acting like she was sixteen and facing Sirius Black’s misguided criticism.

_ Oh, this is going to be such fun, isn’t it? _

 

****

 

Harley had never seen--or bothered to ask her father--what went on at Hogwarts before the students arrived in the evening on the first of September. It’s a slightly hectic time where professors are checking and rechecking their lesson plans and schedules, house elves are going mad in the kitchens and making sure all the rooms are up to code, and Minerva was fielding last-minute owls from students who had missed the train (unlike Harry and Ron, who didn’t owl but instead illegally flew a car to school).

Even the ghosts got into the act, though sometimes having Peeves want to “assist” was like asking a grindylow to do your homework.

Harley had the least to do besides make sure she had students’ names memorised once they’d all arrived and the new ones had been Sorted. Gryffindor was almost as filled as Hufflepuff (evidently Slytherin and Ravenclaw were a bit more selective, as they were smaller than the other two), and she was glad she had a good memory.

“Nervous, dear?” McGonagall asked her as the sun began to set.

Harley nodded. “I feel like a fraud, to be blunt. I think Longbottom was right: I am not teacher material.”

“Nonsense. You’re going to do wonderfully. I was just talking to Severus before I came down, and he asked me if I could bring his portrait so he could see you at the High Table. And trust me, some of these students can use your slightly sharper than necessary tongue. Your father agrees.”

“You know that Longbottom thinks I’ll emotionally scar the children?” Harley asked.

Minerva nodded. “He’s personally biased on two levels: he hated your father and he wanted to be Head of House. Ignore him as I am.” The headmistress led Harley into the Great Hall, which was all set up for the first day. The only teacher not there was Neville, who was tasked with bringing the first years into the school, after he collected them from Hagrid, who Harley was glad to see was still teaching Care of Magical Creatures.

The students would be there any minute, and Harley felt like she might faint.

“Nervous?” This time the question came from Millicent Bulstrode, the new Head of Slytherin. Harley hadn’t known her well, but she knew that this girl was a modicum better than Pansy Parkinson.

“A bit, I suppose. You?” Harley asked.

Bulstrode nodded. “But you have more reason to be--you’ve got really big shoes to fill.”

Harley met the few teachers she didn’t know, and greeted Flitwick, who was now deputy headmaster, before taking her seat. She recalled her father saying he spiked his pumpkin juice with whiskey on certain first term days and found herself wondering if she could conjure up a small bottle to assist with her horrible nerves.

As she was thinking that, the door burst open and the students from second year up came bounding into the school, a bustle of noise and good cheer. As a student, she had always hated this clamour and wished for silence. As a professor, she still felt similarly.

She watched the Gryffindor table, looking for familiar faces. Some kids looked like they might have been related to her classmates; she definitely spotted a miniature of one of the Patil twins, and then saw a face that made her do a double-take.

Despite the mocha-coloured skin and hair that was a darker red, she nearly swooned when she saw Fred Weasley sitting with a few third-years. Thankfully, common sense kicked in and she realised that this was obviously George’s son. Looking at this boy--who looked just like the boy she’d loved and yet didn’t resemble him at all--she felt the pit in her stomach grow and she turned her attention from him and to the boy he was animatedly talking to before she burst into unexpected tears.

Tall, tanned, freckled, cocky, with messy dark hair, there was only one couple who could have produced this kid: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. She had a nephew and she’d had no idea. It hurt that her little brother hadn’t thought to tell her the news. It also hurt that he decided never to speak to her because she was the only person who didn’t coddle him and praise him.

Over at the Ravenclaw table, she saw a student waving at her and she waved back. Victorie Weasley, Bill and Fleur’s daughter. Teddy had brought her for a visit over the summer; they were a couple and a cute one at that. She was pretty and bright, a perfect mix of her parents. At least there would be a friendly face somewhere amongst these kids.

Neville lead the first-years in and proceeded to act as Minerva used to by explaining the Sorting process to about a hundred overexcited eleven-year-olds.

The first name he called that Harley recognised was, “Granger-Weasley, Rose!” It figured Hermione didn’t change her name when she married. Rose was a pretty girl with her father’s hair colour and her mother’s hairstyle, the poor kid. She was Sorted into Gryffindor.

The next student she recognised also waved brightly up at her: her godson, Scorpius Malfoy. Draco had said that his son was ecstatic to know she’d be teaching him for his first year at school. He was Sorted into Slytherin.

The next recognisable student was called. “Potter, Albus!” She watched as a pale little boy with dark hair and the green eyes of his grandmother nervously stepped onto the stool and the Hat was placed on his head. Like his father and his aunt, little Albus was a Hatstall, sitting there in nervous contemplation until the Hat finally called out “GRYFFINDOR!”

The only other name Harley knew personally was the last girl called, Lavender Wood, who was obviously Oliver’s daughter. Also a Gryffindor. A bunch of Weasleys and Potters. Harley was certain that McGonagall knew about this and had made her teach on purpose, to somehow reconnect her with her family. Meddling old witch; was that a requirement for Hogwarts headteachers?

McGonagall stood up once the Sorting had finished and made a short welcoming speech. “And I am sure the older students have noticed some staffing changes. Professor Bulstrode will now be the Head of Slytherin House and your Transfigurations teacher.” There was polite applause for her.

“And replacing Slughorn in the Potions classroom, I am pleased to say, is Professor Snape. This is the first time in twenty-one years a Snape has taught Potions. She will also be the Head of Gryffindor House, and seventh years will be using her textbook from this year forward.”

There was more polite applause, though there was also some confused faces from some of the students who must have studied the war and knew some of their parents had horror stories from the original Professor Snape, especially many of the Gryffindors.

Harley looked at the group at the Gryffindor table and held back a sigh. This was going to be a very long year.

 

****

 

Harley’s very first class was a seventh year Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff one. Minerva had scheduled it as such so her first class could be a bit easier: older, more disciplined students, and a smaller class size.

Before class began, she was pacing in her office, her nerves singing.

“Harley, you’re going to make yourself ill,” Severus said from his perch on the wall. “Calm down and maintain control, just as I taught you.”

“I think I’d rather face Death Eaters!” Harley said.

The portrait snorted. “Of course you would. So would I. But the fact remains that you, my little girl, are tasked with an even more important job that fighting the Dark, and you must go and do your best. I was nervous my first class, but I wound up teaching for most of my adult life. You can do this.”

So Harley entered her first class with some reassurance and a little less nerve. The students, which included Victorie, were all quiet, polite, and talented. No one was extraordinary, but they were all decent. It was the best first class a new teacher could hope for.

She saw the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins on Wednesday afternoon and wasn’t sure what she dreaded more: facing her nephew or the fact that she knew this class was likely to drive her to insanity?

In a cluster of four in the middle of the class sat Rose, Albus, Scorpius, and Oliver’s kid, Lavender. They already seemed to be friends. Of course, Rose and Albus would have grown up together, but she was surprised at Scorpius’ inclusion. He was a kind, fun-loving boy, and she was also surprised that he was a Slytherin. She hoped this generation of Potters, Malfoys, and Weasleys could cohabitate Hogwarts harmoniously.

Harley had never attended a first year class with her father as professor, but she knew from the others how he had behaved and even what he said. Plagiarising her own blood, she slammed the dungeon door, startling the students as she walked up to the front of the class.

“Welcome to your first ever Potions class,” she said. Like her father before her, she did not need to raise her voice to be heard. “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death.

“If, that is, you have the skills required.” This was her own part, taking what she had said to Patricia into account. “You must concentrate, be aware of what you’re doing at every second, steady yourself, and most of all--behave. Not everyone will manage even one of those things, and those who can’t--or  _ won’t _ \--are destined to fail.”

Rose, Albus, and Scorpius were staring in awe, as were a couple of other students. At least they were paying attention.

“Let’s see what you already know. Can anyone tell me what goes into the Draught Of Living Death? ...Not you, Malfoy. I know you know this.” The blond boy put his hand down with a smile that mirrored his father’s. “Potter? Really? All right, go ahead.”

“Powdered root of an asphodel lily and  essence of wormwood,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Infusion,” Rose corrected. It seemed she took after her mother a bit, then.

“A point from Gryffindor, Granger-Weasley,” Harley said. “In this class, you will not speak out of turn. If you have something to say, raise your hand and wait to be called on. If not, I do not want to hear you. And that could have been a teachable moment that you ruined.”

The girl’s face turned as red as her hair.

“Now, who can tell me the purpose of St. John’s Wort?”

A Slytherin got the answer correct.

“Aconite?”

Another Slytherin answered, but this time Wood raised her hand. When she was called on she said, “My mum and dad were talking about devil’s bread before I came here. What is that?”

“Poison hemlock,” Harley said. “Highly dangerous and you will be working on it with Longbottom in sixth year.”

The girl’s mouth dropped. “It’s poison? So, you really can go to Azkaban if you give it to someone?”

“Evidently yes...everywhere but Hogwarts. Now, if we can continue the first lesson…” Harley explained the potion she wanted them to work on and the students got to work, Rose still looking put out. She heard that Longbottom had made his cauldron boil over during his first class, she she prayed that no one would do it this time as she made her rounds around the room.

“This potion reverses the effects of the hex  _ Furnunculus _ ,” Harley said. “Make the potion incorrectly, and when it touches your skin you will get a severe reaction similar to the hex it is created to counter. A reminder for you: every single potion that is made incorrectly or tasted while unfinished can be deadly.”

Scorpius raised his hand. “Is it true that Professor Longbottom had to be carried out of his first class because his cauldron broke or something and he broke out in boils?”

_ Yes, because he’s an idiot, _ Harley thought. “I wasn’t in that class, so I wouldn’t know. Back to work, Malfoy, and don’t spread rumours about your professors.”

She began to make her rounds, making suggestions and unable to keep herself from thinking that many of these kids would probably wind up blowing themselves up worse than Seamus Finnigan used to at the rate they were going.

“Wood, catch that before it boils over. A point off for blatant carelessness. … Malfoy, good job. … A bit slower, Granger-Weasley, or it will congeal. … Potter, I am impressed.” Albus was making his potion nearly perfect, and considering that Ginny was average and Harry was dreadful, that was a surprise.

Class ended with no incidents, and most of the students with the exception of Wood got ‘Acceptables’ on their potions. She assigned homework and went into her office. This was her last class of the day, and she had yesterday’s papers to grade.

There was a soft knock on her door.

“Enter.”

It was Wood, holding an envelope in her hands. “Professor? May I see you for a moment? I have a note from my parents for you.”

Harley nodded and took the envelope from the girl.

“Mum and Dad talked to Professor Anderson last year, before we knew she was going to resign, and this is the product of that conversation, I guess,” Lavender said.

Harley opened the letter and began to read. It was an entreaty to her from the parents to do for Lavender as McGonagall had done for Harry in 1991: make her get a tryout for the Gryffindor Quidditch team despite the fact that first years usually are not allowed to join.

Already she was going to say no. No one deserved to be raised above other students like that. Albus was the product of two of the greatest Quidditch players to ever live, and you didn’t see his parents requesting special permission for him. But when she got to the final paragraph and saw the signatures was when she decided this girl wouldn’t see the Quidditch pitch until she got a new Head of House.

_ “Along with the fact that her father is one of the best players Puddlemere United ever had and is still their manager, he also led Gryffindor to win multiple House Cups alongside myself, of course, before I played as the first female Chaser for the Chudley Cannons. Lavender would make a perfect early addition to the team. _

_ “Thank you for your time. _

_ “Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet-Wood” _

Harley lowered the paper and realised her hands were shaking. She now knew exactly what her father felt when he had seen Harry, the son of his childhood tormentor, walk into the Great Hall.

“While there was an exception made in ninety-one for Harry Potter, I can assure you that, even if your skills were half of his when he was your age, I would never allow you such a privilege. I don’t think Potter should have been allowed it, either. And that is quite presumptuous on your mother’s part to even send this letter, asking for preferential treatment for you. I was against Harry’s treatment when I was a student, and I certainly am not giving  _ you  _ any liberties.”

She tossed the letter in the air and said, “ _ Scindet _ .” It began to tear itself into tiny pieces. “ _ Incendio _ .” The pieces incinerated, while Wood looked on, eyes wide in shock. “And if you broach this subject with me again, I will ensure you don’t get a tryout next year, either.

“If that will be all, I have papers to grade.”

“But--but…” Tears were rising in her eyes, eyes Harley should have recognised the moment she saw the girl. Alicia’s eyes.

Harley narrowed her eyes. “No ‘buts’, Wood. I am not breaking the rules for you. If you mum has an issue with it, she can come speak to me personally.” She felt herself smirk. “I am sure she’d find it a very... _ interesting _ conversation. Now leave.”

She watched as the girl scampered out, tears in her eyes, and leaned back in her chair. No wonder they’d been talking about hemlock. How had her old poisoning come into conversation?  She covered her hand with her eyes. This was going to be a very long year indeed.

 

****

 

Friday was the day she’d get to know James Potter and Fred Weasley better. She was certain she knew how to handle James, it was dealing with Fred that was going to kill her. He had his nose, his eyes, his smile. How could she face him twice a week after this week without losing her mind?

The class was noisy as all Hell, and she noticed James was sort of holding court with the other Gryffindors, mimicking something that his father had told him about Hogsmeade. The Gryffindors were all laughing, and the Slytherins were rolling their eyes. He was sitting on the top of a desk, feet on another.

“Potter! Feet down and sit properly. As class has not begun, I’ll refrain from removing points from you,” Harley said upon entering the room.

James jumped in shock, and Fred pushed his feet off the desk.

“Man, get down,” the redhead said, nudging Potter. He was staring up at Harley as she walked to stand at the front of the room.

James hopped off the desk and sat down the normal way. “Sorry, Professor,” he said, not sounding a bit contrite.

Harley got to work, assigning them an antidote to brew and she began to make her rounds, noticing that Weasley was trying to concentrate, but James was whispering to another boy, ignoring his cauldron which was bubbling away, on an incorrect heat level.

“Potter! If your Quidditch conversation is more important than Potions, might I save us all some time and fail you now?” Harley asked. “Five points from Gryffindor. I don’t want to hear your voice again till class is over.” She waved her wand over his burnt cauldron. “ _ Evanesco _ . Start over.”

At the end of class, she heard Fred say, “Wow, she’s nothing like Slughorn, is she?”

“I guess there’s going to be no Slug Club this year, huh?” asked a girl Harley didn’t know well. “You know, just change the name?”

James scoffed. “Yeah right. Albus said she’s Malfoy’s godmother. If she did continue the club, you think any Potters or Weasleys would be included? She’s already reduced Lavender to tears on Wednesday. I don’t know  _ how  _ she’s a Gryffindor.”

“Well, I don’t know about Lavender, but I didn’t find her so bad. And you weren’t paying attention. If I pulled a prank in class, I’d expect to get points taken,” Fred said. “Though I think I’ll keep my dad’s products for other classes. Better have one of us get on her good side!”


	45. So Long, Professor Binns!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests, Professor Binns crosses over and leaves classes unattended. What will Harley learn about her relatives when she has to teach them about their very own legacies?

“What do you mean, Binns crossed over?” Neville cried.

McGonagall had called an emergency staff meeting Sunday morning not long before winter break when their ghostly History of Magic professor had decided he really did want to be dead.

“I believe she means that he is no longer on the earthly plane, Longbottom,” Harley said.

“That is precisely what I mean, Harley,” Minerva said. “I have already found a substitute, but she cannot get here until the winter break is over. So for the next week, I need each of you to cover his classes.” She passed out sheets of parchment.

Harley had two classes to cover, during what would have been her free period. First and third years from Slytherin/Gryffindor. The first years were to be taught about the Order Of The Phoenix, and the third years were doing a special report on former headmasters.

“Tell me something, Harley, is it only when your bloodline is in the school that these things happen?” Minerva asked.

“Good bloody question.”

 

****

 

At least the lesson seemed simple enough, though it was going to be odd talking about the Order when she had been a member.

Needless to say, the class was stunned when they found out their professor crossed over.

Malfoy raised a hand. “But Father said he’d been teaching posthumously for decades!”

“Yes, well, it seemed he was finally ready for retirement. Now, take out quills and parchment. I’m going to teach you about the Order Of The Phoenix. Can anyone tell me what that was?”

Granger-Weasley, Malfoy, and Wood all raised their hands.

“Potter? Care to enlighten us?”

Albus gave a startled squeak. “Oh. Um...they were started by Albus Dumbledore in the nineteen seventies to combat Lord Voldemort, the Dark wizard.”

“Very good. Can anyone name some of the members aside from Dumbledore? Granger-Weasley?”

Rose sat up straight and said, “Many relatives of current students were members. Albus’ grandparents and parents, my mum and dad, all our extended family on the Weasley side.”

Harley nodded and turned on the slide machine, where two photographs were shown: the Order then and the Order as it was before Voldemort’s demise. She pointed her wand at each member as she introduced them.

“Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.” She couldn’t keep a sneer from her face. “Son of James Potter and Lily Evans.” She then ran down a list of Weasleys, managing to keep a straight face when pointing at Fred. “Fred Weasley was one of the casualties of the Second Wizarding War. As were Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks.” Her wand made its way to the old photo. “Sirius Black was also killed, but not during the battle.”

Albus’ hand shot up. “Is that you, Professor? Next to Fred?”

“Yes, that is. I was the second double-agent we had, alongside my father, Professor Severus Snape, who was sadly another casualty of war.”

She saw Albus’ eyes widen, but he didn’t say anything.

“The Order was an organisation determined to have the Light win and the Dark Lord defeated. And despite the fact that there have been no serious Dark threats that Aurors can’t handle, every member is sworn to band together again if the Wizarding World is ever in need.” She waved her wand and the slide closed. “Open your books to page seventy-three to learn more about the Order. You will be writing an essay at least eight inches long for me on the Order, their history, and what difference they made in the Second War. Anything copied directly from the book will earn you an automatic ‘Troll’.”

As the students filed out of the room, Albus stayed behind.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Um...my dad never really talks about the war. I was just wondering if we’ll learn more about it as we get older?” he asked.

“Yes, I assume you will. Potter doesn’t talk about the war? The way he used to be, one would think he’d be boasting about it constantly.” Harley paused. “Is that all, Potter?”

The boy paused, looked back up at the Order photos, and then asked, “Was it hard, being a spy? Was it dangerous like Muggle movies say?”

Harley nodded. “It was very dangerous indeed. My father and I were in constant peril. Had we been discovered by the Dark, we would have been tortured and killed, and the Dark Lord would have won the war. In any case, that is not the lesson you need to concern yourself with today.”

Albus nodded. “Well, I just figured the Light wouldn’t have won without you, right?”

She nodded.

“That’s cool: we’re being taught by a hero. Thanks, Professor.” Albus waved and left the class, where Harley saw Scorpius was waiting for him.

 

****

 

“All right. We will be doing part of this assignment in the Headmistress’ office, so you all need to be on your very best behaviour,” Harley told the third year class. “That means no whispering, no touching anything, and no Weasley products.” She saw Fred place some Exploding Taffy into a nearby trash bin.

“This lesson will be to speak with as many of the former headteachers’ portraits as we can in a fifty-minute period, and you will all pick which one you’d like to write a foot and a half report on. Follow me.”

She led the students past the gargoyle and up the stairs to the bright, spacious office.

McGonagall stood up and greeted the students before leaving the office. “No one wants me lurking about during a lesson,” she said as she left.

Harley looked over all the portraits, hundreds of headteachers over the past thousand years, almost all of whom she had no idea who they were. Dumbledore was smiling at her, and her father nodded when her eyes passed his portrait.

“Thank you to all the former headteachers who agreed to take part in today’s lesson,” Harley said. “Now, which one of you would like to go first?”

A clearing of the throat made Harley look to her right. “Professor Black. Why am I not surprised?”

Immediately, James raised his hand. Surprised he had a question already, Harley called on him to speak.

“Pardon me, but are you related to Sirius Black, sir?” James asked.

Black muttered something that sounded like ‘disgrace’ and then said aloud, “I was. Why would  _ that  _ be your first question?”

James smiled. “I’m named after him, sir. James Sirius Potter.” James looked far too proud of his damned legacy. Harley felt ill that Harry had the gall to name his son after those two imbeciles.

A scoff made her look at Severus’ portrait.

“Harley, how on Earth do you handle him? James and Sirius were bad enough as separate people,” he said with a smirk. “I can’t imagine the terror this one causes all on his own: named after Black and with both Potter  _ and  _ Weasley blood.”

James’ mouth dropped open. “Who--how dare you say that, you hook-nosed bas--”

“Potter!” Harley cried, cutting off the insult. “Get out, wait in the hallway. One move and you’ll be sent straight home. I will deal with you after your classmates have finished their lesson.” He just stood there, glaring between Harley and Severus. “Are you hard of hearing? Go wait in the hall-- _ now _ .”

“What about the lesson?” he asked.

“You’ll still have to write your paper. Just with a bit less information than your classmates have. One of the prices you’ll have to pay for speaking so crudely to a former headmaster and hero.” Harley flicked her wand and the door opened.

James walked dejectedly out, and she slammed the door behind him. “Anyone else even thinks about insulting anyone in these portraits, you’ll be punished alongside Potter.”

Fred’s hand went up. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“None of your business, Weasley.”

She closed her eyes for just a moment. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree. Now to figure out how to punish him without hexing him.

 

****

 

When James sat down at Harley’s desk that afternoon, he looked defiant yet worried.

“Potter, I am your Head of House, which means I really don’t care to have to take points from you every single class,” Harley began. “And aside, I realized that taking those points really does nothing to make you change your behaviour, and neither does giving you detention. So I needed to take the morning to figure out just what you actually care about that I could take away. The Headmistress gave me her approval of my punishment.” She looked up to see most of the defiance drain out of that arrogant little face.

She slid a piece of parchment across her desk to him. “Have both your parents sign this while you’re on your winter holiday.”

The note read:  _ “Mr. and Mrs. Potter, please sign this in acknowledgement that your son, James Potter, has been banned from one Quidditch match this season due to his being highly disrespectful and cursing at/insulting a former headmaster of Hogwarts. Punishment approved by both the Head of Gryffindor House and the Headmistress.” _

James spluttered, “You can’t do this to me! I’m the best Seeker we’ve had since my dad! If I miss this game, we’re gonna lose.”

Harley sat back and said, “Too bad. You should have thought of that before you spoke so insolently. Dismissed, Potter.” She hid her satisfaction at his shock and frustration until he’d slammed the door behind him.

“This was how his father should have been dealt with.”

Harley jumped. “Father, I hadn’t realised you’d come down here.”

“Oh, I had to see how you handled Potter’s brat. Excellent job, little girl.”

“Thank you.” Portrait or not, it was always so wonderful to be praised by him.

“I have a question, one I found I was almost afraid to know when I was alive: however did you know all those spells when you lived like a Muggle?” he asked.

Harley blushed. Here was a secret she thought she’d take to the grave. “Well, some of them I just kind of...improvised. I had no idea they were real. The others...I assume I heard Mum talking about them. I knew them and tried to use them much younger than I said.”

The portrait laughed. “Truly, you are your father’s daughter.”

 

****

 

The night before the students left for winter holidays, Harley was grading papers so that she had nothing to do over her break but go back to the shop and take care of things there. She loved teaching, but she missed her work. Brewing at Hogwarts wasn’t the same at all.

A knock on her door interrupted her grading. “Enter!”

In came Millicent Bulstrode, leading Albus Potter by the collar of his dirty Gryffindor robe. “This one has detention. He was fighting with one of my students. Can’t keep them in the same detention, obviously.”

Albus was steadfastly staring at the ground, gnawing his lower lip.

“All right. Points were taken from both parties?” Harley asked.

Bulstrode nodded and then left, leaving Albus staring at the cold stone floor.

“Well, sit down. You’ll be here for an hour,” Harley said, gesturing to one of the guest chairs at her desk. “You can help me sort these in alphabetical order.” She gestured to the stack of parchment she had already graded.

Albus nodded and sat, reaching for the papers. He glanced up and saw Severus Snape watching him from his portrait before starting to sort the essays.

Harley looked over at him. He was very different from his older brother. Albus was quiet, polite, studious. What had made him get into a fight?

As she was wondering, there was a knock on her door.

“Enter.” It was Scorpius, his blonde head peeking in. “Scorpius. I’m holding detention, so whatever it is, could it wait?”

“No, Professor.” He slipped in and closed the door. “I bet Albus didn’t tell you why he got into a fight, did he?”

Harley looked between her godson and her nephew. “No, he did not. Care to enlighten me?”

“It was because of me. The Slytherin boy in third year, Goyle, his dad was a friend of my dad’s back in their schooldays and he was tormenting me, calling me all sorts of names. Albus heard and he went over to defend me. He didn’t start the fight, Professor,” Scorpius said.

Harley looked and saw a pink blush spreading on Albus’ cheeks. “Well? Is that true, Potter?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bloody Gryffindors. How was I ever one of you lot? Thank you, Scorpius.” She gestured for him to leave.

“Albus? Thanks,” he said before he slipped out.

Albus was still blushing as she sorted the papers.

“Potter.” He looked up at her with his grandmother’s eyes. “That was very brave of you and very kind. But you should know that fighting is never the answer. I was bullied when I was at school here, and I can tell you that fighting back only earned me detention just like you. Next time you want to defend your friend, use your words.”

Albus nodded. “I can’t see you being bullied, ma’am. No offence, but we’re all sort of scared of you.”

How similar that was to the conversation she’d had with her father when she was in school.

“I was. And I was given the same advice I’m going to give you: control your emotions and don’t let your Gryffindor nature get the best of you.” Harley looked behind her at her father’s portrait, who smiled at her.

“Thank you, Professor,” Albus said. “I’ll try. ...I almost wasn’t a Gryffindor, you know.”

“I noticed you were a Hatstall like your father was. So was I,” Harley revealed. “What House were you almost put in? I was very close to becoming a Slytherin.”

Albus smiled. “I was almost in Slytherin, too.”

“So,” Severus spoke up from his perch on the wall, making Albus jump. “Your brother is James Sirius. Who are you? Albus Rubeus?”

Harley bit her lip so she didn’t laugh. She had been wondering the same thing.

At the question, Albus sat up straighter and looked the portrait right in the eye, Gryffindor pride mingling with defiance. “No, sir. I was named after two headmasters of Hogwarts, one of whom was the bravest man my father ever knew. I’m Albus Severus.”

To say Harley was shocked would be the equivalent of saying a the Forbidden Forest was a little dangerous. How dare Harry have the gall to take her father’s name after all he had said and done? On the other hand, Albus certainly seemed proud of his namesake, and that was something she could cultivate.

Portrait Severus looked even more stunned than Harley was.

Albus looked up and said, “You’re Severus, the original Severus, right, sir? I recognise you from the Order photograph Professor Snape showed us in class this week. Dad hasn’t said much about you, he doesn’t talk about anything from the time of the war, really. But he said you were a hero, and so did Professor Snape. ...I’m really sorry you died. I would have liked to have met you, the real you.”

It took every ounce of control Harley had not to tear up. “My father was a wonderful man, Albus. I’m just sorry it took so much for your father to realise that.”

Severus looked down at the boy. “You’ve quite the legacy to live up to with that name. If you are anything like your grandmother Lily, I am sure you will.”

 

****

 

Potter Household

Christmas Eve

 

“You’re  _ what _ ?” Harry cried when he got the note from the Head of Gryffindor and Headmistress that James was banned from one Quidditch game that year. “What on Earth were you thinking, insulting a headmaster?”

Albus tried not to smirk. James looked utterly miserable.

“He insulted me first!” James cried.

“Come on, James, you’re not a child anymore,” Ginny scolded. “You should have known better than to curse at and insult a headmaster. Even your uncles never did that.”

James pouted. “It’s crazy! The new Head of Gryffindor hates me. She’s scolded me from our very first class on. Not like I insulted the real guy; it was just a painting.”

“Nonsense,” Victoire said. “I find her very nice indeed.”

“Yeah, I met her a while back. She’s brusque, but she’s cool,” Teddy added.

“I like her, too,” Albus spoke up. “Dad, she saw my test scores the day before the holiday started and offered to give me extra lessons if I wanted. Advanced lessons! As long as the Headmistress approves.”

“What about you two?” Ron asked Rose and Fred. “Do you like the new teacher? I know you loved Professor Anderson, Fred.”

Fred shrugged. “She barely looks at me, never calls on me unless she has no choice, but she’s not so bad. She’s better than Slughorn.”

Rose pursed her lips. “She scolds me quite often. She doesn’t like it when I call out the answers in class. And she made Lavender Wood cry multiple times already.”

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. “That’s awful. What did Lavender do?” Harry asked.

“Well, the first time it had to do with not letting her play Quidditch,” Albus said. “Another time I think she needed it: some of her potion went flying and it could have hurt someone if they’d got it in their mouths. Lavender is really careless sometimes. I never partner with her in Potions if I can help it. She’s always losing points for us in Potions.”

Ginny shook her head. “I saw Oliver the other day. Alicia is furious about the Quidditch thing. I guess the professor sent her a particularly nasty letter.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all smirked at each other.

“There’s one of those teachers in every generation,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, be nice to her: she might save your arse one day,” Ron added.

 

****

 

Meanwhile, in the Malfoy Manor, Draco was making a discovery that could possibly bring about the Third Wizarding War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! I'll be back next week with Draco's discovery!


	46. Draco's Dreadful Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco brings a dark revelation upon Harley, which drives her to the only people who can help her save the Wizarding World...The Golden Trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! Thanks for all the sweet comments on my last chapter! It means a lot!  
> I hope you all like this one, it was a favorite of mine to write.  
> PS--Happy Passover to all my readers of the Jewish faith. xo

Due to her contract, Harley was able to leave Hogwarts and spend Christmas--and the shopping season--at her store. Brewing, writing, trading sarcastic comments with Patricia, it was a welcome relief from the constant chattering of over a thousand children and teenagers.

_ No wonder Father was always out of sorts, dealing with that all the time _ , she thought as she was writing up a new recipe to test out. It was late, Christmas Eve, and she was actually glad to be alone for the holiday. Better than false cheer with people who only tolerated her, after all.

She hated the holidays, remembering the last Christmas when she’d been at the Burrow, talking wedding plans with Fred and her father. Despite the portrait being at Hogwarts, the thought that neither of them would ever spend Christmas with her again broke her control every single year and she always wound up a bit drunk on eggnog and tearful in front of the fire at Spinner’s End, listening to her father’s record collection and ignoring the cards and well wishes from the Malfoys and Teddy.

That was why she was at her shop, working. Can’t be drunk while working, and it kept most of the thoughts at bay.

It was nearing midnight, going into Christmas Day, when there was a frantic pounding on the front door made her literally jump out of her seat. Wand out, she rushed to the door and saw Draco standing outside, arms around his thin black coat trying to keep warm.

Harley opened her door and ushered him inside. “Malfoy, are you utterly mad?” she scolded, casting a warming charm on him. “What are you doing here at this time of night on the holiday?”

Draco shrugged off his coat and sighed as he sat down in a chair. “I went to Spinner’s End first...I thought you’d be there. I found something. Something that could potentially be dreadful. You might want to sit down.”

Harley’s heart stuttered. What on Earth made Draco Malfoy come to her in a state of uncharacteristic disarray, claiming dreadful things were upon them?

“Draco...you’re not drunk, are you?” she asked, wondering if she should dose him with more Veritaserum.

He shook his head, reaching into his coat pocket. He slapped a piece of parchment onto the desk before Harley. “I found this while going through some old family albums with Mum and Scorpius this afternoon. It’s all in Father’s handwriting.”

Harley looked at the parchment. On one side was a list of names, many of which she recognised as known Death Eaters, most of whom were deceased. Opposite each name was an item and a checkmark.

_ Lucius Malfoy - Malfoy snake heirloom _

_ Bellatrix Black - Rodolphus Lestrange’s wand _

_ Rodolphus Lestrange - broomstick _

_ Antonin Dolohov - ring _

The list went on for nine more Death Eaters. All were deceased except for Lucius.

“What is this, Draco?” Harley asked, deciding he could use a cup of tea...and a shot of the truth serum. She liked Draco, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.

He drank the hot tea gratefully. “A list of horcruxes the Dark Lord made his most loyal supporters create. As experiments that the Death Eaters should never die out if what happened with Potter actually did occur in real life,” Draco said. “That is a Duplicate.” He leaned forward over the desk, silvery blue eyes burning into her black ones. “You can get this to Potter. You need to destroy them all.”

“Me?” Harley scoffed. “I haven’t spoken to my brother in years. Why don’t you hand it to him, along with the confession of your undying love?”

They were, she realised, the very images of their fathers as they sat there at odds, arguing over horcruxes and Harry Potter.

“Because you swore fealty to the Order. You have a magical bond to honour,” Draco said. “You taught the children that in school this year, did you not?”

_ Oh, fuck me _ , Harley thought. “How do you know this is for real?”

“I did every test I could think of on it,” Draco said. “If you can do more, feel free. But all it is is a Duplicate. ...I don't want what happened to ever happen again. Please, Harley.”

Draco looked like the little boy she had first met in 1992, on the verge of tears.

“We’ll take care of it, Draco. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” She stood up. “I’ll go as soon as Christmas is over.”

She held her hand out to Draco, who took it in both of his. A moment later, she regretted giving him the Veritaserum.

“Scorpius knows Albus is your nephew. And he sees how close you two are after just a few lessons and told me about it. I know I made some terrible choices in my life, but if I learned anything it’s that self-isolation is never a good thing. Potter has an attitude problem, yes, but the rest of them...they all cared about you. Maybe this can be your bridge gap being filled.” He gestured to the parchment before leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “By the way, Scorpius loved the voice changing potion you gave him. Happy Christmas, Harley.”

 

****

 

Harley waited until Boxing Day to go over to Grimmauld Place. She knew most everyone would be there today, and it was less frightening than calling an official Order meeting. She stood outside it’s Charmed facade and took a calming breath. She hadn't seen these people in years, and now she was just going to barge in with this kind of news?

She would have taken care of the horcruxes on her own, but Harry had the Sword of Gryffindor, and he had Auror access to the life sentenced prisoners in Azkaban. She needed him, as much as she hated to admit it.

Performing the Charm to get the building to appear, she walked up to the front door and knocked.

A few seconds passed before the door swung open and a little girl of about nine with Weasley hair stood before her.

“Hi, who are you?” she asked with a bright smile. She was dressed in a parka and ski pants, as if she had been playing outside in the snow.

“My name is Harley Snape. Who are you?”

“I’m Lily,” the girl said. “Are you here to see my mum and dad for Boxing Day?”

Lily. Another relative, another name to break her heart. Taking a second to compose herself she said, “Yes, I’m here to see your parents. May I come in?”

“Lily?” a voice called. “Who is it?” Harry appeared behind his daughter, looking nearly identical to his teenage self, if you ignored the lines at his eyes and mouth. As he saw Harley, his eyes widened behind his spectacles. “Go on, love. Go play with the others in the backyard.” The little girl ran off happily.

“Harry.” Harley was unsure of what else to say.

“Harley. ...Look, don't be offended, but what are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s not as if I’ve seen you anytime recently, after all.”

She scoffed. “I’m not here for  _ you _ , brother dear. I’m here on Order business. More specifically, Death Eater business. And if it pleases your highness, I’d rather not stand out here like a Muggle salesman.”

Harry grudgingly let her in and she removed her cloak and spelled her boots dry from the fresh snow outside. She followed him to the grand sitting room, where she was greeted by many familiar and identically shocked faces: Ron, Hermione, George, and Angelina.

“Harley!” Hermione  cried. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you!”

“It is,” George said. “I know what we agreed on, but a monthly invoice is all I ever hear from you in years. It gets stale.”

Angelina gave a warm hello. Ron looked skeptically at her, as if she was going to hex each one of them in turn.

“I want to ask what’s going on, but at the same time I’m afraid to know,” Ron said. “Not to be a git or anything, but nothing short of disaster could have brought you here.”

She smirked. “Nice to see your brain still works, Weasley.” Speaking of Weasleys… “Where’s Ginny?”

Harry blushed crimson. “We...had a bit of a row last night. She’s at her parents.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Harley said. “Ron, you’re not with her?”

Ron shrugged. “She wanted to be alone to think, she said. Not like she’s being much fun today, is she? I’d rather have the kids all together before school starts back up.”

Harley wondered what the fight was about, but she’d have time to ask. Right then, they had much more important things to discuss. “Angelina, forgive me, but I am here because of the Order of the Phoenix. You’re not one of us and I am unsure if it would be wise to speak in front of you.”

She nodded. “I understand. I’ll go check on the kids in the backyard.”

They waited till she left and then everyone turned their eyes towards Harley, who still looked and felt like the odd person out.

“Last night, Draco Malfoy came to my shop near midnight. He found something pertaining to the Dark Lord in some old family documents.” She reached into her pocket and produced the parchment and handed it to Harry.

“What is this? Besides a lot of Death Eaters,” Harry asked.

“A list of horcruxes Voldemort had some of his Death Eaters make.”

A stunned silence hit every person in the room. Harry, who had been standing, stumbled a bit as he went to sit down.

“You...you’re joking. You spent all this time coming to get revenge on me or something,” he said weakly.

“Yes, Potter, because in the past nineteen years all I have had is time aplenty to think of a plan to unnerve you,” she said sarcastically. “This is real. I did my own tests on it and as Draco said, it is a Duplicate, but absolutely authentic. I would have taken care of this myself but for two reasons: I’d like the use of Gryffindor’s Sword, and you can get in to see the only living person who will know where and what all of these items are--Lucius Malfoy.”

Hermione stood up and took the parchment from Harry. “Merlin...he wanted his reign to truly be immortal, didn’t he? I know I should get some Aurors on this, but I think I’d rather keep this in the Order, too.”

Harry was sitting, staring blankly at his hands. Flashbacks were most likely running through his mind, feeling like he was right back in the middle of the War. Harley reached into her bag and handed him a small phial.

“What is that?” he asked.

“A calming draught. Concentrated to work fast. I brought it for you because I assumed--rightly so--that you’d be a bit shocked at this discovery,” Harley said.

Harry took the phial with a shaking hand. “Thanks, Harley. ...Sit down. You’re making me even more nervous just standing there like...well, like your dad used to.”

Harley sat on the only other available armchair, straightening her skirt.

“What were you planning on doing?” Ron asked her.

“Well, this should be much simpler than what you went through years ago. Mostly because many of these people on the list are already dead. Harry, with his Auror access, can get us a meeting with Lucius--with your blessing, Minister--and he should be able to tell us where to find each horcrux on the list. We should have this finished by the time school starts back up for the children,” Harley explained. “No pain, no mess...no death.”

Harry nodded. “That most of all.”

Hermione stood up and said, “I’m going to owl Azkaban and say that you and Harry will need a private meeting with Lucius tomorrow.” She went over to a desk and started writing, Ron watching with a small smile on his face. “Is nine in the morning okay?”

“Fine by me,” Harley said. “I’ll tell Patricia she’ll have to open without me...not that she isn’t used to it by now.”

“Yeah, Harley, I stopped by your shop around Halloween to say happy birthday. I happened to be in Hogsmeade for business and Patricia said you weren’t there and might not be back till the weekend. Ingredient hunting?” George asked.

“Um, no. I took on a job as a favour,” she replied. She was hoping to get the Hell out of Grimmauld Place before any of the kids saw her. Frankly, she still wanted to keep her distance from her family. “And I realise we are not exactly friends, Potter, but it would have been nice to know I had nephews and a niece.”

Harry didn’t answer, but looked ashamed. Good. He had no reason to dislike her, except for the fact that he didn’t like her honesty. She stood up. “Well, Potter, keep that parchment safe. I will meet you at Azkaban tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t have to go,” Harry said, surprising her.

“Yeah, stay and have a few drinks. I know you can loosen up--I used to see it all the time,” George said. He stood up to face her. “I think we made a mistake, Harley, both of us wanting to distance ourselves. Fred would hate what we’ve done.”

She took a breath at the mention of Fred. But George was right: Fred was lively, happy, filled with fun and laughter. He thrived on his friends and family. He’d hate to see how Harley had hidden herself away. He’d be hurt that she distanced herself from his family.

Harry stood up as well. “We have a lot to work through, but I do want you to be part of the family. I was wrong about a lot of things. I realised that last night, with Ginny.”

“I am not exactly the sweet, social person you’d want around,” Harley said.

“Well, we lived with you for years at school. Trust me, we know,” Ron said with a smile. “But we want you around anyway. We can get the inherited Snape scowl off your face.”

As Harley was about to respond, there was a clatter near the back of the house and James ran into the room.

“Dad! Dad, can we--” He saw Harley and cut himself off, looking as though he’d seen a ghost. “Oh no. What  _ else  _ did I do?”

“What?” Harry asked, clearly confused.

Just then, Albus followed his older brother, calling happily for his dad. When he saw Harley he beamed. “Hi, Professor! What are you doing here?”

At once, everyone in the room said, “ _ Professor _ ?”

Ignoring them, Harley said, “Hello, Albus. I’m here on business. James, you did nothing and even if you did, anything done during holiday your father gets to deal with, not I, thank Merlin.”

James looked visibly relieved. “Oh.”

“Professor? Really?” Harry turned towards Harley, looking between her and his sons.

“Yeah, Dad, this is our Head of Gryffindor,” Albus said. “I thought you knew that?”

“No. No, but now everything you all told me makes a lot more sense,” Harry said. He turned back to Harley. “You were the one who keeps sending Teddy his potion?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“That was his choice. I didn't make him keep it secret. He said he preferred it, keeping me to himself on his Hogsmeade trips,” Harley replied. “He was lucky. The night I met him he nearly died. You should have contacted me immediately for Wolfsbane when you realised Andromeda couldn’t afford it to be imported. He said he didn’t want to bother you, but you should have been adult enough to realise he needed it. Especially after what happened with Remus when you were in third year. It was typical Gryffindor irresponsibility on your part.”

Harry went white, two angry spots of red blossoming on each cheek. “At least I was there for him! Where were you?”

“Mourning my father, godfather, and fiance; trying to rebuild my life when everything I had was lost on that battlefield!” Harley retorted. She went to turn around and leave but George caught her wrist.

“No way, you’re not leaving. You two need to get everything out in the open,” he said.

“I agree,” Hermione added. “You’ve had nearly twenty years to sit on all of this, keeping each other at bay for reasons that, right now, are unimportant. In my opinion, you both need to grow up. You’re  _ not  _ your respective fathers.”

The siblings stared at each other, and the only thing that made Harley not hex Harry and walk out was the startled glances from James and Albus. They were children, they were what the Order had fought to protect.

“And you can start with telling them who Harley is,” Ron said to Harry, gesturing to the boys. “Lily, too.”

“You can’t try and take charge of my life,” Harry protested.

“ _ Someone _ needs to when you continue to act like a teenager,” Hermione said.

“Never thought I’d see the day where Ron Weasley shows at least a bit of sense,” Harley commented.

“Yeah? And why didn't you say anything when the school year began?” Ron asked her.

“Not my place. He’s their father and it is his decision,” she replied.

Harry sighed, looking between Harley and the kids. “James, go bring everyone in, will you? Our business is finished anyway.” When they were gone he looked over at Harley and said, “I’m only gonna say this once: if you’d rather them not know, leave now. For some reason, Albus really likes you, and I’m not going to let you hurt him by deciding down the line you’d rather not have family burdens.” Harry put his arm around his son’s shoulders.

“I’m not the one who kept secrets. Might I suggest you ask the question while facing a mirror?” she said, sitting back down.

Angelica came in leading James, Fred, Lily, Rose, and what looked like another Weasley child, about Lily’s age.

“That’s Hugo, by the way. Rose’s brother,” Hermione said proudly.

“Okay, what’s happening?” Rose asked, sounding exactly like her mother. “And why is our professor here?”

“Yeah, I’m really confused,” Albus added, looking at Harley expectantly.

Harry sighed, running a hand in his messy locks. “During and after the War, emotions were running high. We were all grieving people we lost, trying to come to grips with our new lives. Harley and I had a bit of a falling out. In fact, we haven’t even spoken in over nineteen years. And that was mostly my fault.”

“Why? You were in the Order together, you think you’d all have been friends,” Albus said.

“That was my fault. You see, I was engaged to your uncle Fred, and when I lost him...I sort of lost myself,” Harley spoke up. “While it’s true Harry and I didn’t speak for other reasons, it is my fault I never stayed in touch with anyone else here.”

Little Fred’s eyes lit up. “That’s you! Dad has photos of Uncle Fred in our house, and you’re in some of them! Dancing in one, and in the Gryffindor common room.”

“When we met Harley, she came late to Hogwarts,” Harry continued. “She was older than me, strange, and kind of scary. But Fred took a shine to her, so we all did as well as we could. When our next year started, Harley found out who her birth mother was...she’s my mother. Your grandmother Lily.”

Albus, James, and Lily were staring, each one with a different expression on their face.

“Harley is my half-sister, and obviously your aunt.”

There was a beat of silence that seemed to stretch into infinity. The first person to say or do anything was Albus, who broke away from his siblings to run to Harley and wrap his arms around her in a tight hug.

Harley hadn't had anyone hug her since Teddy, but she hugged her nephew back just as tightly. A moment later, Lily climbed into her lap--she was a small girl like her mother--and gave Harley a hug as well.

James was staring sceptically. “You--you  _ knew  _ you were related to me and you still banned me from Quidditch?”

Harley looked from him to his father and burst into the first gale of genuine laughter she had indulged in since the Battle of Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to Easter, there might not be a chapter next week--just a warning!


	47. The Second Horcrux Hunt (OR Secrets Revealed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second Horcrux Hunt begins, and it brings along many other revelations, from romantic to heart-breaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but here's a long chapter to make up for it! WARNING: there's a little M/M non-sexual action that happens so if that isn't your cup of tea...I apologise.  
> Enjoy! xoxo

Since the War, Kingsley (Hermione’s Minister of Magic predecessor) had banished all dementors from Azkaban with one exception: they were allowed to patrol the top level of the prison, where those sentenced to death dwelt. Death Eaters and murderers, the lot of them.

However, knowing they deserved such punishment didn't make going to face dementors any easier. So Harley brought along bottles of her  _ Tenebris Exilium _ for both her and Harry to drink before going in there.

“Thanks. Good thinking,” Harry said, downing his. “So, what’s your plan to get Malfoy to talk to us?”

“I have two plans. One, I already know what his horcrux is: the crystal serpent that topped his and now tops Draco’s wand,” Harley said. “If he knows his will be destroyed regardless if he helps us or not, he might perhaps have a change of heart and want the others destroyed...for a sort of twisted revenge.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

She held up a third bottle of her potion. “Then I bribe him.”

Harry shook his head, showing his Auror badge to the guard at the door. “Slytherin at heart, aren’t you?”

“Gryffindor at heart, Slytherin in the head.”

They walked up a long, narrow, dark stairwell that gave even Harley the creeps as they ascended to reach Lucius in the conference room Harry had asked the guards to set up for them.

The room was made of stone, no ingress or egress save for the door they had come in. The table was wooden, the chairs iron. It was as dreary a place as any, and Harley felt the deep chill in her bones from the dementors, and she was glad they had both taken their potion. She had a funny feeling that they had entirely different worst memories since both she and her brother had first encountered dementors and she was not keen on discovering them.

“You feel them too,” Harry said.

“Indeed I do.” Every second was unnerving her more and more, making her feel weepy and anxious.  _ Control, control, control _ , she thought, gripping her black robes in her hands.

A moment later, the door opened and two guards led in Lucius Malfoy. He didn't look anything like he had when Harley had last seen him on the battlefield. His hair had thinned and got completely white, and his face was drawn in, bearing the marks of longtime treatment from dementors.

“Well well,” he sneered as he sat down, handcuffed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? The Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Betrayed?”

_ You filthy bastard _ , Harley thought.  _ It should be you who’s dead. You should have been poisoned by the Dark Lord, not my father. You never deserved life and yet you’re still here, wasting oxygen while he’s gone. _

Out loud, she said, “I won’t beat about the bush with you, Lucius. We discovered some information that we need you to elaborate upon.”

He scoffed, looking amused and very much like his younger self. “And what makes you think I will acquiesce?”

“Because you’ve got nothing to lose.” Harley gestured to Harry and he put the parchment on the table.

“This is a list of horcruxes Voldemort made his followers create. We already have yours and a way to destroy it. We just need to know exactly what all of the others are and where to find them,” Harry explained.

The surprise that passed the Death Eater’s face was hard to miss. He moved the parchment closer and began to examine it, reading the list. When he got to the end he narrowed his eyes, as if confused. The expression cleared and he pushed the paper back towards Harry.

“You’ll accept my apologies that I do not wish to assist you with nothing in return. I am going to assume, Miss Snape, that you came prepared for negotiation?” he said.

“I certainly did,” Harley replied. “While I am sure what you’d really want is a way out, a shortened sentence, we both know the Minister would sooner  _ avada kedavra _ you herself than see you go free or receive leniency.

“However, I brought you something that I believe will make your time here less of a burden until your execution.” Harley reached into her bag and pulled out the final bottle of her potion and placed it on the table.

“What is that?” Lucius asked, eyeing it warily.

“A potion I created decades ago. It eases the effects of dementors. I brought you this so you could sample it. If you find that it works, I will send you a supply to assist your mind in exchange for your assistance now,” Harley said.

Lucius stared at the potion for another moment. “How long do the effects last?”

“Depends on the taker. One bottle this size should last at least twelve hours,” she replied. “And before you ask, it’s not poisoned. I need you for the moment, so if I were plotting your demise, I’d not do it now.”

Lucius chuckled. “Amazing. If you were a man, I’d think Severus was the one sitting here right now. Well, when it comes to dementors, I do have very little to lose.” He opened the bottle, sniffed the contents, and then drank.

Hiding her satisfaction, Harley sat back in her seat, waiting for the Veritaserum to take effect. If the Ministry ever found out about her continued illegal use of the potion, she’d be in a cell right next to Lucius.

She slid the paper back towards him and then took out more parchment and a quill for her own use. “Now, your turn. What exactly is each item on the list and where do we find them?”

Lucius, pupils dilated and cheeks rosy, began to speak, listing each item and it’s location with perfect clarity. “Now, that does not mean they are still in these places. It has been many decades since I have seen them. ...The Dark Lord wanted us to all rise again with him, but some of us refused. Those who refused were killed on sight. Others died in the attempt to make a horcrux.

“I will freely admit that none of us--save perhaps Bellatrix--wanted to make these. We were all wary of splitting our souls in two. Even those of us who had murdered before did not want to taint ourselves like this.” He looked up at them and said, “I’m actually glad to be helping you. I will feel better when they’re gone.”

“Thank you, Lucius. I will have a shipment to you as promised.” Harley and Harry stood up, both of them scurrying to escape that oppressive room and get as far as they could from the dementors.

Harley took a deep breath of the cold winter air, clearing her head and her lungs of that dark place. “So bloody glad to be out of there.” She glanced over at her brother. “You look like someone stole your cauldron cakes. And it’s not because of the dementors. What really happened with Ginny?”

He looked up, wary behind his spectacles. “Why do you care?”

She sighed. “I am your sister, and she’s loved you since you were children. What is it?”

“It started because of Albus,” Harry said. “And his friendship with Scorpius.”

Harley wrinkled her brow. “Old prejudices die hard, do they not? I’ll inform you that my godson is a sweet little boy who adores your son. They’re nearly inseparable.”

He nodded. “I told Ginny it was a good thing that we could put everything behind us. She went on to say that the Malfoys will always be evil. It was a long argument, and it grew from there. It ended with...with…”

Harley waited, a little push of  _ Legilimens  _ telling her all she needed to know. “You told Ginny you loved Draco, not her.”

The look of shock on his face was almost comical. “How?”

She tapped the side of her head. “Father gave me training in more areas than just Potions. Brother dear, I knew you loved Draco since you were in school. It was obvious to anyone paying attention...which counts Ron out, I suppose.”

Harry sat down on a bench. They were in Muggle territory now, and needed to be careful of their words in case they were overheard.

“What do I do, Harley? I didn’t mean to hurt Ginny,” he said.

Harley shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do. You hurt her, and no apology will make her forget that. But Ginny’s a strong, smart woman: she’ll suck it up for the sake of the kids.” She sat next to him. “If you are asking me what you should do about your recent revelation, I cannot give you anything but this: there is a man out there whom you love. Go after him. Because I learned long ago that any love you can grasp is worth whatever it took to obtain it. Love and life are fleeting: enjoy them to the fullest while you still have the chance.” Her finger caressed her engagement ring, remembering her sheer joy at Fred’s proposal, dreaming of a future after the war with children and a real family.  _ Oh, to be young and naive again _ , she thought.  _ I’d give it all up to be eighteen and back in 1996 _ .

“You think I should, what, just go up to someone who has hated me for years upon years and tell him I fancy him?” Harry asked with a scoff.

Harley shrugged. “You’re both far too old to beat about the bush any longer. It’s been twenty-five years, Potter. Time to man up and tell that boy you love him.”

Harry went to say something more when they heard his name being called.

Harley turned to regard the speaker, a tall man a year or two older than her.

“Harry, just the man I was looking for,” the man said. Judging by his robes, which didn’t fit into the Muggle community, he was a wizard, and a very handsome one, at that. He turned to her. “Harley Torrance! Wait...sorry, you’re Snape. Long time no see, eh?”

She was a bit embarrassed that she had no idea who this was.

He grinned. “Don’t remember me, do ya? I guess you never really gave me the time of day anyway. After all, the only Quidditch player you cared for was Freddie. I was just the lowly Gryffindor captain.”

That rang a bell “Oh, Merlin! Oliver Wood,” Harley said.

“Long time,” he repeated. “You look great. And congrats on everything, you know, the potions and the makeup.”

“And the teaching gig,” Harry spoke up.

“Pardon me?” Oliver looked between them, confused.

“I’m teaching at Hogwarts,” Harley replied. “I’m sure your daughter has mentioned me.”

He chuckled, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. About that...sorry. Lavender can be a bit like her mam sometimes. ...Look, Harry, I really needed to talk to you. D’you have a minute?”

“Sure.” Harry stood up. “Give me an hour, okay, Harley?”

She swallowed a huff. “One hour. We have things to do, Potter. Get the sword from Grimmauld Place and meet me at the manor.” She turned, but Oliver called her back.

“Hey, it really was great seeing you again.”

“Yeah, you too.”

 

****

 

As promised, Harry came to Malfoy Manor in one hour, while Harley and Draco were having tea in the library. She’d brought Albus with her once he’d figured out where she was going, and both boys were studying together on the floor before the fireplace.

“Draco, may I ask you something?” Harley asked.

“Yeah, what?”

“Do you still...fancy my brother?”

Draco nearly spat his tea in shock. “What in Merlin’s name made you ask that?”

“Just answer me, Malfoy.”

He nodded quickly, almost imperceptibly, and Harley smirked. Two decades was more than enough time to reconcile and confess.

She noticed the blonde man jumped slightly when the doorbell rang, echoing through the manor.

“Are you going to get that?” she asked him, sipping from her glass of firewhiskey. She hadn’t bothered with tea. They were destroying horcruxes, this was no time for leaf water.

He glared at her, but the glare was made less potent by the blush suffusing his fair face. “He’s your brother: you get it.”

Harley stood, straightening her skirt and bent over Draco’s chair. “Man up. You’re a wizard, not a mouse. Act like it.”

With that she went to the front door to let in her equally nervous brother. No need to use Legilimency now, his emotions were written right there in his mother’s eyes. That fear and concern had nothing to do with the horcruxes and everything to do with the sleek blond sitting in the other room.

“You look like death,” she commented. “Come on. Draco’s in the sitting room.”

Harry followed her, their footfalls echoing on the high stone walls of the manor. Once they entered the sitting room, Draco also stood, his discomfort highly apparent.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

_ For Merlin’s sake I’d like to hex them both _ , Harley thought.

“It’s good to see you,” Draco managed to say.

Harry nodded, looking around. “The last time I was here, Hermione was tortured.”

_ What the Hell? _ Harley thought.  _ That’s what you say to your paramour? _

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, eyes downcast.

Harry continued. “You saved my life that night. Pretending you didn’t know who I was. If not for you, everything Severus and Albus and Harley had planned would have gone to shit.”

Draco looked embarrassed. “I didn’t know about any of that. I just--I knew what was going to happen and...I don’t know.”

“Malfoy, cut your bullshit and why don’t you tell my brother what you told me when you visited me at my shop when we were in the war?” Harley spoke up, impatient.

All colour drained from Draco’s face except for two red spots high on his cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked.

Harley cocked her head and looked at Draco, who she also thought of as a little brother in a way. “Draco,” she said, and this time her voice wasn’t as cutting, “you’ll both be better off if you just tell him. I know from experience that holding things in only makes you sick and bitter. Tell Harry why you wanted to quit the Death Eaters.”

The two men stared at each other, neither one seeming ready to speak. After a moment, they spoke at the same time.

“The truth is…”

“You see…”

They both chuckled a little and that seemed to ease the tension between them a little. In the end, it was Harry who made the first move. Pulling something that was so completely Gryffindor, he lunged forward and pressed his lips to Draco’s.

_ Oh, if these two haven’t irreparably damaged their children already, they have now, _ Harley thought, glancing over at the two boys who were gaping at their respective fathers.

When they pulled apart, Harry was deathly pale and Draco’s cheeks were flaming. The blond man was slack jawed, and Harley wished she had a camera, positive that no one had ever seen Draco Malfoy look like that.

“I--I--I--”

“Spit it out, little brother,” Harley said, amused.

“Please don’t hex me,” he said to Draco.

“Why the Hell would I hex you?” Draco asked. “I’ve wanted to do that since we were fourteen!”

The two men stared at each other before Draco pulled Harry to him and kissed him, much gentler this time, and without the element of surprise. If Harley didn’t know better, she’d say it was sort of sweet. She glanced down at the boys and said, “If you’ve got questions, you better ask me. They won’t be speaking coherently for a bit.”

Scorpius shook his head, but Albus said, “So I can tell my dad that I like boys, too?”

With a light chuckle she said, “Somehow I don’t think he’ll have any issues with that.” She clapped her hands sharply, startling the wizards. “Break it up, gentlemen. You’ve got all night once I leave to catch up. Right now, we need to destroy that horcrux.”

They broke apart, now both embarrassed as Harry dashed to where he’d left the sword of Gryffindor and reentered the room, looking a bit less flustered.

“Here.” Draco handed Harry the Goblin-made serpentine topper for his wand. “The beginning of the true end starts here, with my father’s rotten soul.”

Harry stared at it for a moment, as if the little platinum and crystal snake would come to life and bite him, before he handed it to Harley. When she held it, he also held out the hand holding the Sword Of Gryffindor.

“No,” Harley said, immediately taking a step backwards.

“It’s your turn. You got us this far, now it’s time to finish what’s left of Voldemort’s legacy. To avenge your dad,” Harry said.

“I can’t,” she said. “That was sweet of you, it was, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” Draco asked.

Harley scoffed. “I am no true Gryffindor. The sword will not work for me.”

“Try.”

_ Persistent bastard _ , Harley thought. She reached for the sword’s hilt, half afraid it might burn her hand, the other half afraid it would be like Mohilinjar, Thor’s hammer, and would weigh roughly ten tons when she tried to wield it. If that were to happen, she would be mortified.

Her pale hand closed around the hilt and she lifted it easily. It wasn’t her imagination that she could feel power in her veins and spirit. She placed the horcrux on the marble table and took a breath as she held the sword up, certain it would do nothing for her, its magic meant for true Gryffindors like her brother and Neville only. She brought the sword down in a short stab, feeling it go through the metal like butter, spearing it and the soul contained inside. The basilisk venom began to do its job, dissolving the soul. A gust of wind like a shuddering scream rang through the house, and then it was silent. It was done.

She’d killed a horcrux and wielded Godric Gryffindor’s sword. For a moment, all she could do was stare dumbly until the sound of clapping roused her from her shock. Scorpius and Albus were applauding, and soon their fathers joined in.

“I did it.”  Never had she been so surprised.

“So you know, Hermione told me that a true brave person--not necessarily a Gryffindor--is the only person who can even  _ touch  _ the sword without being repelled. So that means your dad was just as brave as you,” Harry said. “Because he’s the one who put the sword at the bottom of the lake.”

 

****

 

The other items were spread out around Britain, and it would take them the rest of the break to find them. Bellatrix had a few in her vault, which the Ministry had cleaned out and kept in their evidence room now, so those were easy to obtain and destroy. Harry, Harley, Hermione, George, and Ron each took turns in destroying them until only four remained.

“Dolohov, a family heirloom ring, probably still at his old manor,” Harley read off the list from Lucius. “Dolohov didn’t live near Durmstrang, did he?” That was where he had gone to school, not Hogwarts.

“No, he lived in England according to our records,” Hermione said. “Harley, I’m surprised your father didn’t make one.”

“That was probably before his time. The youngest person on the list was Bellatrix, and she joined them even earlier than he did,” Harley replied. “Father waited till right before he graduated, she joined when she was just sixteen.”

They decided that Harry and Ron would go find it, and they’d all take turns going in pairs for the remaining three.

Harley mixed some drinks, as Harry kept up the Black tradition of keeping top notch liquor in the house, and everyone seemed oddly relaxed for searching for Horcruxes.

“Hermione, why did you change Wizarding law to allow divorce?” Harley asked. “Were you apprehensive about your own husband driving you batty?”

George laughed and Hermione blushed.

“No! Actually, it was because of you. Had divorce been allowed, Lily would have left James and the entire war might have been avoided. I love Harry, but…” She trailed off.

“Don’t worry, I get it,” Harley replied.

“Harry and Ginny put in a formal request yesterday for divorce, and so did Oliver Wood,” she revealed.

Harley chuckled. “So, Oliver finally wised up as to the monster he’d married. Brilliant. What could he have possibly seen in her?”

“Beats me,” George said. “Fred liked her, but that was before he met you. And you kinda woke him up as to...well, love. Real love, not ‘that chit is pretty’.”

Harley laughed. “We were fourteen, George.”

“And professed your love a year later,” he replied. “You were like a Muggle fairy tale.”

Harley drained the rest of her drink before saying, “Yeah, but at least Disney made their stories have happy endings. Ours was more like a Brothers Grimm original. ...I still miss him more than words can say. Every day. And it hasn’t gotten easier to bear.”

George nodded. “No, it hasn’t. But I think we made a huge step towards recovering by not being so childish. At least, I hope you’ll start looking my son in the eye in class now.”

“It wasn’t being childish. It was self preservation,” Harley disagreed. “All right, come on, we need to see who is best to get the rest of these horcruxes.”

She knew that they knew she was changing the subject, but frankly who could blame her? Death had defined her her entire life. It was much better to ignore it than wallow in the sadness that was already barely repressed.

But George was right: everyone was healing. Harry was accepting himself and his feelings for Draco, Ginny was moving on from her childhood crush, the Weasleys weren’t setting a place for Fred at the table anymore, and she...well, she was behind in that area. But she would heal, even if she had to force herself, she’d figure out how to heal and make Fred, Remus, and Severus look down on her with pride.

 

****

 

“This is it.”

Harry, Hermione, Ron, George, and Harley were all standing around Rodolphus Lestrange’s grave. Bellatrix had made her husband’s wand into a horcrux, and it would not be fun retrieving it. Bella had really wanted it kept safe: it was buried with the man.

“Grave robbing,” Hermione said, her voice flat. “We are grave robbing.”

“Not if you sanctioned it, Minister,” George said, but even his terrible attempt at humour didn’t stop everyone from feeling a sense of distress. Harley admitted that she’d seen enough corpses to last her a lifetime, and Voldemort’s desecration of Dumbledore’s grave for the Elder Wand  had really hit her hard. Even someone as nasty as a Lestrange deserved to be peaceful in death.

She made a face as she raised her wand. “Well, we can’t stand here all night bemoaning our task. It must be completed...the sooner the better.  _ Alohomora _ .”

The aboveground stone tomb in the Lestrange vault began to shake as the lid separated from the tomb’s body. Dust rose in a small cloud, making Ron cough. It smelled sweet and cinnamony, like mummies in Muggle museums.

“Oh, this is so wrong,” Hermione moaned as Harry and Harley both stepped up to the tomb, staring at the mummified body of Bellatrix’s late husband. His hair and beard were brittle, his body was nought but skin and bones, teeth showing through lips that had all but disappeared. His eye sockets were empty, and Harley figured the eyeballs had become dehydrated raisins and fallen into his skull. His hands were placed traditionally on his stomach, his wand clasped between them.

“I’m not touching that,” Harry said, his face white.

“Squeamish, brother dear?” Harley asked. “ _ Wingardium leviosa. _ ” The wand slipped from the corpse’s grasp and floated in the air. Harley set it down on the floor before them. It and the entire room radiated of malevolence.

“Who does the honours?” George asked.

“Harry, of course,” Ron said.

Harley and Hermione nodded. This had been Harry’s quest, and he had to finish it. He deserved to finish it.

But the Boy Who Lived shook his head. “No. Both of us.” He gestured to Harley. “The Death Eaters took more from you than they did from me. We both lost loved ones. Our mum. Friends. We were both scarred by this.” He motioned to her left arm, where the Dark Mark was naught but an ugly scar, and then to his forehead.

He held the sword’s hilt and moved closer to his sister. True to her heritage, she didn’t show the shock or appreciation she felt as she took the hilt with him.

“Ready?” he asked and she nodded.

“On my count,” Ron said. “One. Two. Three. Kill the thing!”

They swung the sword down and the splintering crack as the wand was hacked in half. Despite their victory, they had no time to celebrate: the second the horcrux was destroyed, the vault began to tremble, the stones shaking as if they were in a California earthquake instead of an abandoned London cemetery.

“Um, guys, I think we should get out of here,” Harry said, wide-eyed.

“Really, Potter? What made you come to that brilliant conclusion?” Harley snapped as everyone turned towards the doors, which were promptly covered by falling stone. “Apparate back to Grimmauld Place! Hermione, get Ron before he Splinches again.”

With a series of cracks, everyone appeared one-by-one inside the old Black manor, bringing dust and dirt with them.

“Who the Hell puts a posthumous hex on their bloody grave?” Ron cried, rubbing stone fragments from his hair.

“Psychos like the Lestranges,” Harley replied. “That was quite the close call.”

“This place looks like a tornado hit it,” Hermione commented. “We have to clean up.”

During the Scourgifying, Harley asked, “Is it customary to bury the dead with their wands?”

George nodded. “Yeah, unless they have heirs who might be able to use them. Like Neville, he never should have had his father’s wand because Frank Longbottom wasn’t dead. But Fred’s got my wand, and I use Fred’s.”

Harley nodded sadly. “I noticed. ...I ask because I have Father’s wand on the mantle. I couldn’t bear to bury it. It was a part of him for twenty-seven years.”

George clapped her on the back. “Hey, I get it. ...Will you ever use it? I mean, I know you did by accident in our fifth year, but like, to honour him?”

“Oh no,” she said. “Never. I might be able to master his wand, but because I can doesn’t mean I should. I honour him in other ways.”

“Like making him famous with those books,” Harry said.

She nodded. “For once, brother dear, you’re completely correct.”

She stayed late that night, even after everyone else had gone home, to talk with her nephews and niece a little bit more. She told them about potions she created, learning alongside her father, preparing for the war, and being a businesswoman at only eighteen. Lily liked hearing about Fred the most, James enjoyed her (slightly exaggerated) tales of war, and Albus wanted to hear about Severus.

“How did he die?” Albus asked just as he was drifting off to sleep.

“Voldemort’s snake bit him,” she replied.

“Were you there?”

She shook her head. “No...I was in battle. We had to pretend to be on opposite sides, so I was not with him in his last moments. Your father was, though. My father helped yours end the war with his memories. Now, that’s all for tonight. Get some rest.”

She left his room hastily, feeling a bit queasy at the remembrance, and now facing something she had never really wanted to think about: she had not said goodbye to her father. She’d not been with him for over eight hours before his death. If not for Harry, he would have died completely alone.

_ Leave it to Potter’s little brat to make me feel like a louse two decades after the fact, _ she thought, rubbing her eyes so she would not cry.

“Hey, you okay?”

She jumped, having not heard Harry approach. Nodding, she said, “I need a drink.”

Harry asked Kreacher to get them their drinks. Glasses of firewhiskey in hand, she and Harry stared at the fireplace, just as they used to when the Order was staying at Grimmauld place, keeping them out of things because they were children.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you...could you tell me…” The words refused to come out as she felt her hands begin to shake. “What happened, exactly? When Father died?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Why the Hell would you want to know that? I saw both my parents die, thanks to the Dementors digging that memory up. Why would you want to know about his last moments? Let your memories of him be happy and alive. Well...as happy as a Snape can get, anyway.” He smiled weakly.

“I wasn’t there, Harry,” she said. “I couldn’t be with him for his last moments and...I didn’t get to say goodbye. Fred’s death I had to accept. I watched it happen. Same with Remus, and he and I had cleared the air right before. I guess I still hold a bit tighter to Father because, despite bringing his corpse back with Neville, there’s still a sense of unreality hanging over me.”

“And you want to know what happened.” Harry heaved a sigh and said, “Hang on.” He left the room and came back with a small Pensieve, a pricey item that could be purchased from specialty shops recently. “If you really wanna know, I’ll give you the memory. But if you can’t handle it, I won’t  _ Obliviate  _ you, and Lockhart is still in St. Mungo’s, so he won’t either.”

Harley scoffed. “Such a sensitive man you grew up to be.” He put his wand to the side of his head and a silvery wisp came along with it, and he placed it in the Pensieve.

“Go on,” he said. “But if I were you, I’d sod it.”

“Potter, never tell a Gryffindor something like that. It only makes us more stubborn.”

“But you can’t want to do this,” Harry protested.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Harley replied. “However. I need to. I need to get closure and this is the only way I know how.” With that, she turned towards the Pensieve and dipped her head in, getting sucked into the memory.

It was that familiar falling sensation and suddenly she was standing in nearly complete darkness with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. There was just a sliver of light where Harry was holding up a trapdoor, and she saw the Shrieking Shack through the slat.

“You think he’s up there?” Ron whispered.

“I know he is,” Harry replied. “Come on and be quiet!”

Harley was forced to follow them, as this was Harry’s memory, and they slowly crept up the stairs till they got to the highest floor. Harley could hear two voices getting louder and louder as they got closer. Her father’s was instantly recognisable, as was Voldemort’s measured hiss.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

Snape’s face went even whiter than usual at the sight of the wand. Many might think he had looked that way out of mere shock, but Harley knew better. He knew what was coming. But if he knew, why didn’t he stop it?

###  Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, holding it as delicately and precisely as a conductor’s baton. “Why doesn’t it work for me, Severus?”

“My Lord, I do not know. Please, let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can -“

“No.”

Harley paused with her father. This was the moment they had planned for, the final battle as they had plotted. This was where everything went awry.

“The wand can only be passed from owner to owner through murder. Therefore, I am not the true master of the wand...yet.” Voldemort stepped a bit closer to Severus. “The one who controls this wand is the one who killed its previous owner.”

Realisation seemed to hit Severus at that very moment. “My lord…”

“There can only be one true Master of Death. You have served me well, but your usefulness has come to an end. I must master the Elder Wand in order to kill Harry Potter.” He flicked his hand and made a harsh hissing sound. Because this was Harry’s memory, Harley could understand his Parseltongue: “Nagini, kill.”

Harley knew her father could have fought, but she also saw something Harry probably hadn’t: Severus knew the Trio was there. He had glanced that way for the second that Voldemort had looked at the Elder Wand and seen them from the corner of his eye. Had he fought, he would have never been able to give Harry his memories. His death wasn’t a murder over a wand: it was a calculated sacrifice.

Harley watched in mute horror as the snake snapped forward through the air and embedded its poisonous fangs into her father’s throat. Severus fell back against the wall, slinking to the floor as the deadly poison hit his bloodstream.

Voldemort laughed and left then, not even staying to see if he really had killed Severus. His arrogance had been a saving grace: had he stayed, Harry never would have gotten the memories.

The moment Voldemort was gone, the Trio rushed forward, Harry falling to his knees at Severus’ side, immediately trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. She wondered why Harry had done that, thinking that he had been their enemy, but she realised it was simply Lily’s influence that made him do it, that kindness she had left in both of her children.

Her father grasped Harry’s arm, his head was back against the wall, and he began to cry, his tears glittering silver. Memories. She’d had no idea that could happen. No wonder he had always told her that her enemies didn't deserve her tears.

“Take it...take them…” he said, his voice weak and raspy. Harley could hear the blood in his throat gurgling and she felt sick.

Hermione wised up as to what he meant first, reaching into her Charmed bag and retrieving an ampoule.

She handed it to Harry, who nearly dropped it for the shaking of his hands, collecting the memories she knew her father had held so close to his heart.

“Tell her...goodbye for me…” he rasped, coughing up blood. Harley’s already broken heart broke just a bit more, because she was the only “she” he could have meant. She’d not been there to say goodbye, but even in his last breaths, he was thinking of her.

“Tell who?” Harry asked, eyes wide in mixed shock and confusion. But Severus didn’t respond to that, staring fixedly at Harry’s eyes. At  _ Lily’s  _ eyes.

###  “Look… at… me….” he whispered. The green eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.

The scene faded, going black, and Harley was ejected from the memory. Unable to stand, hating herself for asking to see the memory and glad that she did, she fell to the floor, her every wall and defence down, crying harder than she had in years.

Her father sacrificed himself. He let Nagini poison him instead of trying to fight back so he could get his memories to Harry, so he could complete their plan.She had always called him a hero, always thought of him as a saviour of the Wizarding World alongside Harry, but even she had no idea how much he had given until this night.

He gave his time to Hogwarts, his freedom to both Voldemort and Dumbledore, his powers to the Order, his heart to her and Lily, and his life for Harry. And even in his final moments, he gave his thoughts to her and to her mother. The best of Severus Snape was taken, and all he had ever received in return was ridicule, scorn, and mistrust. What they say is true: no one respects you until after you’re dead.

Harley jumped, feeling a hand on her shoulder. It was just Harry, on the floor beside her.

“Did he mean you?” he asked quietly. “All this time, I thought the poison made him hallucinate, but was he saying goodbye to you?”

“Yes,” she said, slightly gasping, feeling fortunate to have gotten even that one word out.

“I’m sorry I never said anything. I wasn’t thinking,” Harry said.

She hiccuped. “You never do.”

Harry surprised her by laughing as he put his arms around her. For the first time ever since they met, Harley hugged her baby brother tightly. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, leaving Harley there in confusion.

He dashed away to another room in the house and came back with something tightly clasped in his hand.

“These should be yours now.”

Harley held her hand out and saw the ampoule in which her father’s dying memories were contained.

“There shouldn’t be anything you don’t already know in them, but you should have them anyway,” Harry said.

A million snarky comments ran through her head, what she thought about him keeping them, but Lily’s nature prevailed and she simply thanked him for giving her back a piece of her heart.

“Did you make Draco Disarm Dumbledore on purpose?” Harry asked.

“Huh? Why would I do that?” she asked, wiping her tears hastily.

“To try and save your dad,” Harry said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Elaborate, Potter,” she said, leaning back against the couch.

Harry ran a hand through his dark locks. “I guess they didn’t tell you. Dumbledore intended for Snape to be the one to get the Elder Wand, not Draco and--by extension--me.”

Harley leaned her head against the cushions, trying to get her sudden anger under control. Even decades after death, Dumbledore was still pissing her off. “Well, even though he didn’t, Voldemort still killed him. Dumbledore’s plan worked perfectly.”

“Not exactly. If I wasn’t master of the Elder Wand, I wouldn’t have been able to deflect Voldemort’s curse. I’d be dead, but then he’d be defeated as well, with only one bit of his soul left in his own body. That was Dumbledore’s intention. Kill all three of us and have peace and a new regime in the Wizarding World.”

“And my father knew this?” Harley asked. Harry nodded and she covered her face with her hands. “He never told me,” she said, her voice so quiet it was nearly drowned out by the crackling fireplace. “He knew the whole time he was never meant to survive and he never alluded to it even once.”

“He wouldn’t want you to worry,” Harry said. “Snape and I had our differences until his death, but I feel like I understand him better than I used to. He didn’t want to have that on your head. He wanted you to have more to fight for.”

She sighed. All those times he’d said it wasn’t worth it, but that she needed to fight for Fred or Lily. He’d never said to fight for him. Not once.

It was soon after she took her leave of Harry, going back to Spinner’s End and standing before her own miniature Pensieve, her father’s memories in her hand. She uncorked the bottle and held it aloft above the Pensieve before stoppering it again. Of all the things she wanted to know, all the things her father had kept from her, she decided they weren’t worth it. She’d lived with a deep ache ever since the war had ended, and she couldn’t bear to have any more heartache.

It took her stubborn, Gryffindor brother to teach her that sometimes ignorance is actually bliss.


	48. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Battle of Hogwarts First Annual Remembrance Ball, Harley learns what it really means to begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I was polishing this up a bit. I hope you enjoy it! Not much longer to go before the end. Yikes!

“Draco? What are you looking for?” Harry asked. It was the night before they were to send the kids back to Hogwarts for the rest of term, and Harry had brought Albus to sleep over with Scorpius while he had an entirely different kind of sleepover with Draco. Lily and James were at their mother’s.

He hadn’t expected Draco to be ransacking his library when he and Albus arrived at the manor.

“Harry!” Draco leapt from the ladder and gave him a hug. “Hey, Al. Scorpius is reading outside if you want to join him.”

The boy left, and that allowed the adults to greet each other more properly. Decades of dancing around and denying their feelings had left them nearly panting with want every time they were together now.

Once they disentangled from each other’s arms, Harry repeated his question.

“I did something really bad,” Draco admitted. “But I did it for a good reason! I’ve been looking for a potion recipe, and I finally found it.”

“Okay, but what was the bad thing you did?”

Draco looked up, a blush suffusing his pale face. “Even under the effects of Veritaserum, I told one really big lie. And if I can’t find the ingredients to make this potion work, I left a very Dark object hanging around Hogwarts.”

 

****

 

The night before school was back in session, Harley was at her office in the Potion Master, working on a recipe for a client, when there was a knock on the door. Patricia was long gone, and she’d been closed for three hours already.

Holding her wand behind her back, she went to answer the door only to sigh in relief. “Wood, what are you doing here at nearly ten at night? You’ve got to be freezing if you flew here.” The tips of his ears were bright red. “Come on. Come in before the snow gets inside.”

“I cast a warming charm, so I’m all right,” he replied, walking into the darkened store. “This place is nice. I’ve never been in here.”

“Never were a potion man, were you?” Harley asked, offering him a seat.

“Not unless I had a Quidditch injury,” he agreed.

Not one to waste time, Harley again asked, “So, what brings you here?”

“Oh, well, I wanted to talk about Lavender and my now ex wife.”

Biting her lip, she managed to say, “I do my best to treat your daughter well, though she makes it difficult at times. And I really don’t care to speak of Spinnet.”

He sighed, staring at his hands on the table. “I didn’t know. I wasn’t at Hogwarts when she poisoned you, and I never knew about it. Until this past summer. I was giving Lav a lesson in potions, knowing there was going to be a new professor this year. And we were talking about poison when Alicia brought up your sixth year. I’m so sorry that happened to you, Harley. You didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

“No shit I didn’t,” she muttered.

“She called it a prank, even laughed about it. Now, I know what taking the piss outta someone is, and that’s not it,” Oliver continued. “I feel guilty somehow.”

Harley shook her head. “Wood...Oliver...I really appreciate your coming all this way to apologise on her behalf, but it is not your place, especially since you are divorcing her.”

He nodded, head down. He still looked a lot younger than he was, a perk of being a wizard. She felt slightly amused that this is how he must have looked in McGonagall’s office, when he had neglected homework in favour of Quidditch practice.

“I’m doing my best,” he said suddenly. “Trying to raise Lav right, not all spoilt like her mam. I never realised how mean Alicia could be.”

“Love can be blinding,” Harley commented. She still didn’t understand what Oliver wanted. It was the middle of the night, it was nearly a blizzard outside, and he wanted to vent to her about Alicia? After they hadn’t seen each other in nearly twenty years?

Oliver leaned back in his chair and said, “How have you been holding up...besides working like a dog?”

Harley was momentarily taken aback. Except for George, no one had actually asked her how she was. Most people avoided questions like that lest they get the sharp side of her tongue, but she supposed her attitude was nothing compared to living with Alicia for over a decade.

“I’m surviving, like everyone else,” she replied.

“Yeah, surviving. Not thriving.”

Pursing her lips she said, “Excuse me, but you barely know me. You don’t get to judge my existence.”

Big brown eyes stared at her across the desk. “When I knew you, your eyes sparkled. You had passion. Enjoyment. Now you might have success, but that spark is gone, Harley, and it really hurts to see it. I can’t imagine what you went through in the war, but that’s not a reason not to enjoy the here and now.”

She was torn between throwing him out or poisoning him. “What would you have me do to make my life ‘fulfilling’? Get a broom between my legs and chase balls through the air? Marry someone who should be in Azkaban?”

Instead of being offended, Oliver laughed. “All I’m saying is you have family, you have friends, you’ve got two great careers.” He shrugged. “You just need to embrace the living while still honouring the dead. You’ve got people who care about you, people who  _ want  _ to care about you if you’d just let them in.”

And she didn’t have to kick him out, he left on his own, leaving her in a momentary state of shock.

 

****

 

“You want to have a what?” Harley cried during a staff meeting in March.

“I knew that would be forthcoming,” Minerva said with a sigh. “Yes, that is what I believe would be best. We mourn the dead so often that we forget to celebrate life.”

Harley was incensed. “Have you been talking to Oliver Wood? Holding a ball for the twentieth anniversary of the Battle Of Hogwarts is the absolute most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of!”

Millicent scoffed, “Tell us how you really feel, Snape.”

“It’s a great idea,” Neville spoke up. “Personally, I’m sick of the dour mourning that comes every year with the anniversary.”

“I can’t believe you. Is death a happy occasion for you?” Harley asked him. “Does it make you want to strike up a chord and dance? Because that is not how it makes me feel!”

“That’s why we want to do this, to celebrate life instead of mourning what was lost. Celebrate the time we had with those we miss,” McGonagall explained. “You are not the only one who knows the pain of death, young lady.”

Harley clucked her tongue. “Don’t patronise me, Minerva. I’m nearly forty and haven’t truly been  _ young  _ for many years. I know others have felt worse pain than I, but you must understand that everyone works through it at a different pace. I am still not prepared to celebrate in the face of death.”

McGonagall nodded. “I understand, dear, but you’re still outvoted. ...You know there’s a reason none of us really miss your father: with you here, it’s like he never left.”

 

****

 

The ball was to be open to students, staff, and war survivors and their families. Even Hermione was shirking her Ministry duties to be there. Harley woke that morning with a sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with the half bottle of firewhiskey she had drunk the night before. Squeezing her eyes shut, she remembered, as she always did, what she’d been doing this early in the morning on the second of May: sitting by her father’s corpse, crying and begging him not to really be gone.  _ Celebrate life indeed, McGonagall _ , she thought angrily, wiping her eyes.  _ I’ll never celebrate the day my heart died. _

A thought slithered in her head,  _ Fred died laughing. Shouldn’t you live the same way? _ She pushed it away, getting out of bed.

Once in her sitting room, she immediately noticed something out of place: on a mannequin in the center of the room was a lovely black dress robe with silvery lace that shimmered even in the dungeon’s murky half light. It was lovely.

Harley picked up the parchment pinned to it:

“ _ I knew you’d be like your father and show up to the ball tonight in the same robes you always wear, so I took it upon myself to get you a new set and had one of the house elves bring it down to you. I’m sure you’ll look lovely. --M. _ ”

“Meddling old witch,” Harley muttered. “Ah well, at least she had the sense to not try and get me in some godforsaken colourful getup like she and Dumbledore prefer.”

On her way to breakfast, she passed Albus, Scorpius, and Rose, who had become something of a threesome. Lavender was tagging along behind them, but no one was acknowledging her except for Rose.

“Professor!” Scorpius called. They had been given thorough tongue-lashings from her whenever any of them called her by her given name or, Merlin forbid, ‘Aunt Harley’. Those things would not be tolerated at school, and she let them know as much in no uncertain terms.

“Hello,” Harley said. “All ready for the ball tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rose replied. “It’s a nice way to celebrate our families, don’t you think?”

As the day dragged on, it seemed nearly everyone had the same feelings about the ball as McGonagall did. Well...almost everyone.

As always, the house elves were doing the bulk of the work with Minerva supervising, and there were no classes, so Harley was in her office, grading papers and preparing for exams the next week when there was a knock at her door.

“Enter,” she called, magically unlocking it from her seat.

Harry and Draco entered, Harry clad in red and gold robes and Draco in black, but with Slytherin green trim.

“Well, don’t you both make a pretty picture?” she teased, putting her quill away. “Making your public debut as a couple tonight?”

Harry blushed, looking comical. Draco seemed to preen.

“We’re not about to rub anyone’s noses in it...more’s the pity,” Draco said. “Ginny’s here, and we want to be...polite.”

“Malfoy, you wouldn’t know polite if it bit you on the arse,” Harley replied, standing up. “And you smell like daffodils. Did you give them to my brother? They represent life, not love, you know.”

“Wow, who are you looking to impress?” Harry asked, seeming happy to take the attention off of him and his lover. He had looked acutely uncomfortable with the flowers being mentioned for some reason.

Harley glanced down at her robes. “Impress? Potter, in what universe have I ever wanted to impress anyone with my appearance? Minerva gave these to me, said she’d not have me at the ball in my usual robes like Father used to.”

“What a compliment,” drawled a voice from the wall.

“Father!” Harley turned to regard the man who popped into his portrait.

“You look lovely, little girl. You grew up to be as beautiful as your mother.” The painted black eyes looked past her. “And Potter. Wish I could say the same about you. ...Hello, Draco.”

“Hey, Severus.” Draco seemed perfectly comfortable with talking to a portrait, while Harry looked as though he was a student again, under the Potion Master’s dark glare.

“So, um, Harley, have you prepared your speech?” Harry asked.

That got her attention back on her brother. “Excuse me?”

“McGonagall said some of the war survivors were going to speak. Hermione, being Minister, me of course, Neville and you, being our only living spy. ...No offence, Professor.”

“None taken,” the portrait replied curtly.

“I’ll not be speaking tonight and you can tell her that for me. If you’ll excuse me, I have paperwork to finish up before the ball officially begins.” She waved her wand and the door opened for the two men, who exited quickly. She expected that sparks might be coming from her ears she was so angry. What right did McGonagall have to presume upon her good nature? She was done with speeches, done with public appearances, ever since the eulogy. She hadn’t even spoken receiving her own Order of Merlin!

“Harley,” her father called from his perch on the wall. “May I speak with you before you go?”

“Of course.” It was a portrait’s job to advise its successors.

“Minerva was speaking with Dumbledore and I last night. And while some of the points she made were a bit discomforting for me to hear, no doubt every single one was true. When I was alive, I did not live my life as I should have. Partly, it was because of my alliance to Dumbledore and the school, but much of it was my own doing.

“I see the way you stop working at night, just looking at that photograph.” He gestured to the one from Christmas. “I know better than anyone how it feels to lose the one you love. You feel like you can’t ever heal your soul, that your heart has a shadow over it you cannot remove. But you’re wrong to think as such. Fred’s gone, but you’re still here.

“I’m not speaking as a mentor or a teacher, I’m speaking to you as your father: were I really there with you, I’d be pained to see you wallow away in isolation when you’ve no reason to. It might not be in your nature to be gregarious like Fred was, but you  _ can  _ smile. I know you can, because I saw it. Let the world see Lily’s smile again...for me?” He said it as a question, not a command as was his nature to speak.

Harley grasped her necklace, feeling a little embarrassed at being scolded when she was nearly forty, but feeling warmed that her father had, in his brief time as Headmaster, imbued so much of his love for her and Lily into his portrait.

“I make no promises, Father,” she said. “But I will try.”

“That’s my girl. And I am sure Fred would be pleased to see you happy again, as Lily would have been for me had I not been so consumed in my grief.”

Harley chuckled. “I don’t know, Father. I think Mum would be spitting fire in Heaven were she to ever see another woman near you.”

She gathered her robes and took a breath before going up to the ball. Thus far she had put the anniversary of the battle behind her all day, but now she was concerned that she’d not be able to maintain her control and embarrass herself in front of the entire student body.

She swore that the Great Hall had been charmed to be larger when she entered. Every single student was crammed in there, along with many adults. Harry and Draco were already dancing, looking as cute and cosy as she imagined they would. She spotted Bill and Fleur and went to say hello.

Fleur had retained her beauty, and Bill was still gorgeous. Both wrapped her in hugs that weren’t precisely welcome, but she had a funny feeling that she’d be hugging a lot of people this night, whether she liked it or not.

“Still so lovely, ’Arley!” Fleur gushed. “And a teacher! Your father would be so ’appy!”

“What happened? Fame and fortune in cosmetics and medicine weren’t enough?” Bill joked. “Victorie loves you, by the way. She thinks you’re just what the school needed.”

“Oh, it’s her birthday, isn’t it? Eighteenth? This must be like a dream party,” Harley commented.

Just then, Harley was accosted by a tall boy and nearly knocked off her feet.

“Teddy!” she scolded. “I’ve half a mind to hex you! Tall as Remus and clumsy as Tonks: you’re a menace.”

“Sorry,” her godson said sheepishly. He was dressed in his usual punk style, just like Tonks, but he’d done nothing to his hair, and looking as normal as he did, he was a twin of his late father. “This party is great! Though I hope the band speeds up: this is a little dull for my tastes.”

“This is just what everyone needed,” Victorie added, coming up behind her werewolf boyfriend. Her white-blonde hair was streaked with Ravenclaw blue.

Harley wished her a happy birthday and she went off happily with some friends. She turned back to her godson. “Are you all right, you know, because of today?”

Despite being six inches taller, Teddy still managed to look like a little boy. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Usually on the anniversary I don’t do anything, so I don’t think about Mum and Dad. Today I have no choice. I want to celebrate their lives, but how can I when I never knew them when they were alive? All I have are your and Harry’s stories.” He paused. “Are you okay?”

She looked across the Great Hall, picturing the last ball she attended there, dancing in Fred’s arms as he promised to always love her. “No. But I’m getting there.”

Suddenly, the music quieted down and Minerva stood at the head of the Great Hall, using her wand as a microphone.

“I want to thank you all for coming to Hogwarts’ First Annual Remembrance Ball. I am sure that the fallen would love to see you all celebrating today, celebrating the battle one and the sacrifices given. I’d like to take a few minutes of your time for a couple of short speeches.” She stepped back and Hermione stood up, using her wand as the Headmistress had done. She spoke briefly, about the Ministry’s anti-Dark wizard task force and the grateful nature of them all to the ones lost.

She sat and the Harry stood up, looking extremely awkward. Harley smirked. The boy never grew out of his awkward phase.

He was greeted by raucous cheers led by Teddy and James, which only served to deepen his blush so he looked the same colour as his robes.

“Hi, everyone. Um, thank you. Sit down, boys!” He smiled. “We all know why we’re here, to celebrate life and freedom from the Dark. And I guess we couldn’t be here without me, as Hermione just said, but that’s not quite true. There are three other people that, without whom, we’d not be here. One of them is my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. He saved me from Death Eaters at his family’s manor, risking his life when we were just seventeen. I’d have died long before facing Voldemort if not for him.”

Draco was blushing and smiling broadly. Harley gave him a playful swat on his back.

“The second one is, regretfully, not here to speak today. Professor and Headmaster Severus Snape. He risked life and limb for me and for everyone here. Without his sacrifice and his memories, the war would never have been won. He gave everything for me, and for the memory of my mother, Lily Evans. Severus and I didn’t get along, but I have so much more respect and appreciation for him. I wish he was here so I could tell him that in person.”

Harley bit on her lower lip to keep her composure. She hadn't expected that to come from her brother.

“Finally, my half-sister, Harley Snape.”

Her eyes widened at that. She had expected him to lament on Dumbledore now, not her.

“She doesn’t want to speak tonight and I don’t blame her. But without her--just like her father--we’d have been screwed. She saved us many times, protected the students here while she was undercover. Had our backs from the moment we met. Like father like daughter.

“So before you all go and say I’m a hero, stop and think about those three people. Because they had just as much to do with the downfall of Voldemort as I did.”

Well. That was certainly some character development. The whole Hall applauded, Harley included, and the celebration went on. McGonagall came back to speak and said that there was a surprise from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The room darkened and the bewitched ceiling lit up with fireworks, fashioned to be the faces of all those who were lost in the battle, from Fred to Severus and everyone in between. Even Dobby.

Harley had to admit the music was good, a mix of the orchestra and a Wizarding World rock band that even her father would have approved of. Not that she had any plans on dancing. She was standing near the teachers’ area with a drink in her hand, observing and making sure all the students were doing well, especially the younger ones. Suddenly, a boy popped up next to her.

“Can I hide here with you, Professor?” Fred Weasley asked.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?” Harley replied.

“You’re in a dark corner in dark clothes with a scowl on your face. Doesn’t look like you want anyone to notice you,” he replied.

“And why do you want to hide, Weasley?” she asked him.

He didn’t answer, but if he was feeling more like standing around than socialising, she wasn’t going to force him away. As the minutes ticked by, she noticed that his gaze continuously landed on a pretty Slytherin girl in his year with a snub nose, pale skin, and black hair. Priscilla Montague, the daughter of Graham Montague and Pansy Parkinson.

“You know, burning a hole in the back of her head with your eyes won’t get her to dance with you,” Harley said casually.

Fred jumped, his mocha skin darkening with his blush. “She’d likely hex me if I asked.”

Harley had seen them talking before and after Potions class. Priscilla seemed much nicer than her parents had been at her age.

“You’ll never know if you don’t make an attempt,” Harley advised.

“James would never let me live it down,” he protested.

“You let me handle my nephew.”

The boy turned to look at her. “What would Uncle Fred have done if he were me?”

“You mean what  _ did  _ he do,” Harley corrected. “First he kissed her on the cheek and ran away because he was embarrassed. Then he kissed her on the lips, not so embarrassed anymore. And at their first ball, he asked her to be his date and then danced with her all night.” She gave the boy a gentle prod. “Go on. Make your Uncle Fred cheer up in Heaven.”

The boy took a deep breath and trotted off towards the Slytherin girl and Harley found herself smiling without realising it.

“Okay, who drugged you?”

She jumped, coming face to face with Oliver. “What do you mean?”

“You’re smiling. Who slipped you a Weasley product?” He grinned and leaned against the wall next to her.

“No one. I’m just taking some advice and being a little more cheerful...at least when it comes to the next generation, anyway.”

He grinned down at her. “Wanna dance?”

“Excuse me? No. Go on and see if another Quidditch girl is interested. Ginny’s single now,” she snipped.

“No offence to her, but she’s not my type. I’m done with pretentious women.”

“Good job finding one then,” she said, as she finished her drink. “And Ginny’s not pretentious.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Come on, one dance. It’s not a lifetime commitment.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why bother with me?”

He laughed a little. “Don’t you remember? Your fifth year and my seventh? I asked if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade together and you hexed me so that I couldn’t talk all day. I lost twenty points from the professors because of that.”

Now she was a little confused. “So you want revenge via waltz?”

“No! I was asking you out!” he said.

_ Was he? _ “I was not single then,” she said.

“I didn’t know that,” he replied. “Come on, make those twenty points up to me with one little dance.”

She sighed and vanished her empty glass, and his as well. “Fine. One dance and then you toddle off back to the Quidditch pitch.”

He held a hand out and bowed to her, which was traditional. The Wood family was old and pureblood, despite not being part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, so of course he was proper. Harley took his hand and he led her to the dancefloor, where the band struck up a spirited waltz.  _ Good, he won’t try to talk _ , she thought.

She liked dancing. Her Muggle school taught ballroom dancing and she had been one of the best. It turned out that Oliver was just as good as she was, and she found herself actually enjoying the dance. She enjoyed it so much that she danced three more times with Oliver, feeling guiltier all the while.

Once she needed a break, Oliver followed her to the refreshments and got her drink for her, like they were at a Muggle school dance. She noticed that Fred was still dancing with Priscilla, grinning like an idiot. With his fiery red hair and her black-on-black-on-black, it as a painfully familiar sight.

The night was nearly over when the bewitched sky lit up with Weasley-made fireworks: the Houses’ symbols, owls, bats, and more, lighting up the room as the candles all dimmed themselves so everyone could see the show.

Oliver draped an arm around her shoulder and her first instinct was to shove him and hex him once again, but he spoke before she could.

“Harley, I’m not asking for a lifetime. I’m not asking for commitment, or even for love. Merlin knows I’m not ready for that anyway. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance.” His voice was low, they wouldn’t be overheard. “Please?”

Stunned to silence, she didn't protest as he leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses on her lips.

When he pulled away she whispered, “I can try.”

His smile lit up the room almost as much as the fireworks did. “That’s all I’m asking.”


	49. The Resurrection Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley finds Scorpius, Albus, and Rose in the Forbidden Forest and picks up the Deathly Hallow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the late update! I got so busy with work it isn't funny. Please accept this sweet chapter as an apology and a thank you for still reading this work. It's been a year and now I am nearly done with it. It's going to be sad not writing about Harley anymore.

“How on Earth did Harley smell the daffodils?” Harry asked when he and Draco were back at home in the manor.

“She’s a potioneer,” Draco replied. “She’s trained to notice everything. I’m surprised she didn’t see the unicorn horn dust on my robe. Glad that bloody lighting in her office is so dark.” Draco stripped off his outer robes and went back into the room they’d cleared for the potion they’d been brewing.

Harry watched as his...boyfriend? Lover? What did he call his also nearly middle-aged bedmate? Boyfriend sounded so childish, whereas lover sounded like they shared nothing but sex, and that was not the case. He and Draco had become so close since December, they were more like soul mates as opposed to lovers.

And Draco’s pet project, the one to rid Hogwarts of the one Dark object he had deliberately allowed to escape, made Harry love him even more.

“Is it nearly done?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded. “Six months to brew will end soon. Then we just need to add the final two ingredients. By the by, we know where the one is, and you claimed to know about the other.”

Harry nodded. “I do. And I told Albus just where to find it. I only hope he avoids the trouble I used to get into there.”

Draco laughed, ruffling Harry’s messy locks. “He’s a Potter: expect an owl from Hogwarts soon, love.”

 

****

 

_ I kissed Oliver Wood. _

That was the only thought Harley had all evening once the ball had ended.

_ I kissed Oliver Wood in front of half the Wizarding World! What must George have thought? And McGonagall--I was snogging her former student! Bloody fucking fuck. _

She was glad that this night was her night to patrol the halls: she wouldn’t have been getting much sleep anyway. She hated herself. How dare she have disgraced her love for Fred that way? It mattered not that he had been gone two decades: some wounds never heal, you just learn to live with them. And kissing Oliver had been throwing firewhiskey into that old wound.

Suddenly, she was accosted by Nearly Headless Nick, who looked panicked. His partially severed head was hanging haphazardly on a thread of skin and sinew.

“Students in the forest! Students in the forest!” He pointed out the window. Harley rushed over and peered out. Sure enough, there were three distinct wands lit with  _ lumos  _ going deeper into the forest.

“Damn it. Thank you, Nick.” She took off for the front doors, knowing for certain that one of the students out had to have the surname ‘Potter’. She paused at the forest’s entrance, having never set foot inside there since she and Severus had fought off those dementors with Alicia in seventh year.

Taking a breath, she lit her wand and stepped inside the forest, going in further than she had before, wondering just how fast the kids could have gone to be so far ahead of her. Finally, she saw the lights and called for them to halt.

However, halt they did not. With a scream, the kids began running backwards, towards where Harley stood in a little clearing.

“Aunt Harley!” Albus called. “Help!”

The help was echoed twice, once by Scorpius and once by Rose as all three kids entered the clearing like they were being chased. And Harley realised that they were. Their faces were drawn, white, terrified, and she saw why as her own body began to go cold and shivery.

Were the woods a breeding ground for dementors? Their population had diminished greatly since the war ended, and rarely were any seen outside of Azkaban now.

She felt sick and dizzy and weepy as phantom voices and sounds filled her mind. Fred’s laughter and an explosion; Remus calling out spells and then a sick cracking sound followed by Tonks’ scream; Voldemort announcing her father’s murder. Her own cries over the bodies of her loved ones, the old dread and anguish filling back up as though two decades hadn’t passed.

It wasn’t until Scorpius screamed that she broke out of her stupor. The boy--who had seen his mother die of dragon pox when he was seven--was writhing on the floor, tears streaking his pale face. Albus was at his side, trying to protect him from the hovering black-hooded creature. The thing didn’t know which of the affected it wanted to attack first, and that gave Harley the moment she needed to gather herself.

_ I’m not the only soul at stake here _ , she thought, gripping her wand. She’d never cast a Patronus since that day Fred died, and she was afraid she no longer had the good memories with which she could conjure one up.

_ Fred. Remember his smile, remember how he held your hand through the battle. Remember how Remus stood up for you. Remember you father’s love. _

“ _ Expecto patronum! _ ” From her wand, the silvery light burst forth, its force knocking her back into a tree trunk as she saw her patronus take form. Having not cast it for so long, she was shocked to see that it had changed its form. No longer was it the large, swooping bat; it was a bright silver doe, just like both of her parents’ had been.

The doe chased the dementor away, and the thing evaporated into nothingness with an ear-splitting screech. The doe landed on the ground, and it appeared to check on Scorpius before returning to its mistress, disappearing inside of her.

Ignoring the trembling in her limbs, Harley ran to her godson. “Scorpius? Hey, it’s all right. You are fine. It was just a bad memory.”

Albus helped him sit up and Harley touched her wand to his face, stopping his tears. “Are you okay?” Albus asked worriedly.

Scorpius nodded, and Harley helped him to stand, where Rose and Albus proceeded to fawn over him like mother hens.

“Are any of you injured?” Harley asked. All three of them shook their heads no. “Good. That means I get to punish you. What the bloody Hell were you three thinking, sneaking off in the middle of the night into the Forbidden Forest? Were you so inspired by your parents and their old adventures you had to attempt them for yourselves?”

“No, we--” Rose was cut off by Albus stepping on her toes. “I guess.”

Harley turned to her nephew. “Give me the map.”

“What map?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me, kid. Hand it over now.” Harley held her hand out and waited while Albus sheepishly handed over the map. “Did your father give this to you?”

He fidgeted. “Not quite. He gave James the cloak, and I thought I should get something, too, so I took the map.”

“And you two--what inspired this? Rose, your mum had to have told you not to go poking around where you’re not meant to be. Scorpius, you and your father have obviously been spending far too much time with the Potters.

“Detention for the next week for all three: scrubbing cauldrons and beakers without using magic in my office. And ten points from Slytherin; twenty from Gryffindor.” She went to say more when she saw something in cloth, clutched in Scorpius’ hand. “What is that?”

The kids all glanced at each other, sheepish.

“Scorpius Lucius Malfoy, give it to me...now.”

Scorpius held out his hand and said, “We found it in the forest. Rose suggested picking it up with a cloth in case it was cursed.”

Harley opened up the cloth, her eyes falling upon a small stone that could easily fit inside a walnut shell. She’d never seen it before, but she knew what it was simply based on its proximity. The Deathly Hallow, the Resurrection Stone.

“Another five points from Slytherin for trying to hide that from me,” she said, still staring at the stone. “Follow me back to the castle.”

Once inside, she gave them a dose of her  _ Tenebris Exilium _ potion and sent them to bed.

“But what will you do with the stone?” Albus asked.

“Keep it here overnight and owl Hermione in the morning to see what the Ministry wants to do with it...or the Order. Now get to bed. You have exams coming up.”

She made sure they got to their dorms and then shut herself in her own rooms, still clutching the stone in its protective covering. She sat on the edge of her bed, her curiosity warring with her sense of right and wrong. A Deathly Hallow by itself could be dangerous, but knowing all three were within the grounds at once was terrifying. James had the Invisibility Cloak, she had the stone, and the Elder Wand was buried with Dumbledore.

But while she knew that what the stone did was potentially fatal to the user, it didn’t stop her from wanting to touch it, to see Fred once more. This night, more than ever before, she missed him terribly. Kissing Oliver, beginning to move on, had brought forth a deep well of guilt and shame, and to be able to just talk to him once more…

“Fuck it, what am I a Gryffindor for if I don’t make stupid decisions like Harry every once in awhile?” She unwrapped the stone with her left hand and held it tightly in her right, waiting to see what might happen now.

A misty greenish white form began to take shape before her eyes, and she felt her heart began to hammer in her chest. It continued to take a human form, still unrecognisable as it began to shift and contort. Finally, her ghostly visitor was standing before her.

Without meaning to, she blurted out, “Of all the people I know who died,  _ you’re  _ the one who comes out of the stone? Just my luck.”

Sirius Black chuckled. “I figured that might be your reaction.”

Harley wanted to drop the stone and make the rotten bastard disappear, but he had appeared to her for some reason. She knew spirits weren’t random, just as they had not been for Harry when he had used the stone.

“What do you want with me? Come up with a few more insults since Bellatrix knocked you into the Veil?”

He laughed again. “Yeah, okay, I deserve that. Look...I know it’s a little late, but I can’t help it if I’ve been unable to communicate. ...I wanted to apologise. I was an arsehole as a kid to your father. I was an arsehole to you both as an adult. You didn’t deserve how I treated you, and neither did he.” Sirius cleared his throat and Harley saw that ghosts can cry. “You saved my godson, you and him.”

Harley was speechless. Had Sirius Black actually apologised? She didn’t even know he could comprehend the concept.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about James. If I’d known what he was doing, I would have stopped him when we were teenagers.”

Harley wasn’t sure what to say. For all the things in the world she was prepared for, having the ghost of Sirius Black apologise to her was not one of them.

“I am glad you came to your senses in death,” she said loftily. “What’s it like up there?”

“Heaven? No cherubs playing harps, if that’s what you think. If you’re subtly asking if everyone’s here, the answer is that most of them are. Not James, no one’s seen him since his death. No Death Eaters, either...unless you count Snape.” He smirked.

“You’re still a bastard,” she commented, but without venom. She knew it took a big person to apologise about their own wrongs, and she respected him for that. Funny how it took death to have any sort of good feelings towards Sirius.

“I’m not the only one here, you know,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure I had the chance to apologise.” He stepped back, fading into the shadows of her room but still there as another form, bigger than his, started to take shape.

“Hey, kid,” Remus said, smiling softly. “Long time no see.” He was smiling, unharmed. No blood marred his clothes, no bones were broken in his neck. Even his scars seemed to be gone. Is it possible for one to look healthy in death?

Words and feelings Harley had never consciously acknowledged came spilling forth, barely keeping tears at bay.

“I’m so sorry, Remus, you died protecting me from Greyback. Had I been faster, or surer of my wand, I’d have been able to stop him myself, but he was so close to you, I was afraid I would accidentally kill you. Had I only hurt him harder, quicker, you never would have died!”

Remus’ eyes softened. “Oh, Harley, that wasn’t your fault. Greyback had been trying to kill me for decades. One can’t outrun the inevitable, as the tale of the Deathly Hallows showed us. My death was no more your fault than it was my own. You would have been able to handle Greyback, but I couldn’t see him hurt you, so I interfered. No one is at fault for my death except for him.” His eyes narrowed. “Speaking of…”

Harley put her head in her hands. Her one use of the Killing Curse. She’d tried to block it from her mind. “You’re dead, Remus, and you’re still going to lecture me?”

“Actually I was going to thank you,” he corrected. “It takes a lot of love for someone to possibly damn their soul to avenge you, as you did for me.”

“I had to,” she said quietly. “We’d turned over a new leaf, to use a Muggle expression. And then you were just gone.  I would’ve done it to Bellatrix, too, had she not Apparated away.”

Remus smiled at her. “Those rare moments you sound like your mother bring me more joy than you could ever know. I’m proud of the woman you became. I’ve been watching over you, we all have. You bring us a lot of happiness even when you don’t know we’re there. And believe me, someone’s always with you.” He glanced over to where another shade was forming. “Especially this one.”

Remus stepped back, next to Sirius, as the third ghostly shade finished forming.

“Hey, Harley. I’ve missed you,” Fred Weasley said, looking bright and happy, his brightness not even dulled by death.

“Oh my God,” Harley gasped, feeling her body go numb. Nevertheless, she managed to stand and walked towards Fred.

He reached for her and stopped before they could touch, and Harley remembered that, though she could see and hear him, he still wasn't corporeal.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Harley began. “One moment you were laughing and Percy was talking about me being part of the family and the next...there are days I still wake up and think it was all a nightmare.”

Fred’s eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “I didn’t know I was dead at first. It took seeing you by my...my body that made me realise what had just happened. I was worried about you and George. I was afraid of what would happen to you both.”

“George seems okay, but I think we all know better. He lost half of his soul when you died, Freddie...and I lost half of my heart,” Harley admitted.

Fred nodded. “But you still have another half and it needs more than you’ve given it. Harley, I love you with everything I have, always will. It hurts to see you denying yourself happiness. The greatest gift I ever got was your smile aimed at me, and now no one gets to see it anymore. That’s not right.”

“Oh, not you, too,” Harley said. “Even Father’s portrait has been saying shit like that.”

Fred chuckled. “Yeah, and good job not telling me who my father-in-law was going to be! I know why you kept it a secret, but imagine being me.”

Harley laughed a little. “He was so excited for us, Fred. I know it might be hard to picture but all he wanted was for us to be happy.”

“I know,” Fred said. “He told me. Up here.” He gestured to the area around him, which Harley assumed was Heaven and she just couldn’t see it. “And he still wants that. Which you’re denying yourself. Harley, you’ve been through Hell: you deserve to be happy.”

“Then tell me how because all I know is if I’m not busy it hurts so badly I can barely breathe,” Harley said, furiously wiping at the tears that fell from her eyes.

“You were offered a chance tonight,” Fred reminded her. “He’s not me, but Oliver’s a good person. There’s not much better out there than an honest, nice guy who owns a Quidditch team and has had a crush on you since we were all kids.”

“You knew he liked me?” Harley asked.

Fred nodded, a blush spreading on his freckled face. “Sure I did. I was just lucky you were so taken with me you were oblivious to him. ...C’mon, love: it won’t heal you, but it will help if you let him in. It won’t hurt as badly anymore and it’ll make me happy, too. Promise me you’ll be happy again.”

“I can’t make that promise,” Harley said.

“Then promise you’ll try,” Fred requested. “For me, because I love you too much to ever see you sad.”

“I love you, too, Fred.”

He blew her a kiss and went to stand next to Remus as another form began to appear, smaller than Fred, even smaller than Sirius.

This spirit Harley couldn’t remember meeting in life, but that didn’t make her any less recognisable. Dark red hair the color of blood, she stood out as Fred had from the dreary whitish shade of the spirits, smiling a smile Harley had seen many times in her own mirror.

“Mum…” Harley hated admitting it to herself, she had been envious of Harry to have been able to talk to Lily when he had had the Stone in the forest.

“Hello, my beautiful little girl. Not so little anymore, are you?” Lily’s eyes--Harry’s eyes--were streaming with tears. “How I wish I could have been there for you.”

“I wish you had, too. All I ever wanted was to know you,” Harley said.

Lily, a few inches shorter than her daughter, walked closer. Harley felt the chill on her skin from the spirit. “You grew up so wonderfully.”

“It was no small part because of Father,” Harley said.

Lily’s smile widened. “It was Hell waiting for him to wake up and tell you who he was. Proud, stubborn bastard he is. But you inherited the best thing about him: his loving heart.”

“You’re together, then?” Harley asked.

“Yes, of course we are. We were kept apart long enough. But he deserved more time with you, little girl.”

Harley swallowed back even more tears. “That’s what he called me, too.”

“He loved you more than anything, Harley. As do I.”

“I wish I could have more time with you, but I can already feel the Stone draining me,” Harley said, gripping the little black rock harder. “There are so many stories I want to hear from your perspective, about you and Father.”

“Oh, Harley, that would be a long time indeed.” Lily reached out and Harley felt the ghost of her hand brush her cheek. “I just wanted to tell you how much I love you, and have loved watching you grow and become this amazing witch. And Severus does, too. We have all been right by your side this whole time.”

“Why won’t Father come out of the Stone?” Harley asked.

Lily paused. “His spirit it still tied to the world, to you. He’s not the first to be that way. Just know he’s with you: we all are.”

“I love you, Mum,” Harley said. “Tell Father that for me, too?”

“He knows, sweetheart. Now you listen to Fred and be happy, do you hear me? None of us died so that you could be miserable.”

“Yes, Mum,” Harley said. “I’m going to do my best. For all of you.”

She looked over at all her loved ones (plus Sirius) and said a final goodbye as she let the stone slip from her fingers and fall onto the table near her bed. One by one they all faded, and her last sight was of Fred, blowing her one last kiss.


	50. Draco's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's plan comes to fruition, proving that in the Wizarding World, nothing is impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Hell, here we are. The last chapter before MY version of the Epilogue. This has been a wonderful year sharing Harley's story with you all, and I want to thank my readers for sticking with it this long. It means more than you know. xoxo

“It’s here! Draco, the owl came!” Harry came tearing through the manor, waving the small package they had received from Albus and Scorpius.

“All right, calm down. You’re acting like a third-year after his first Honeyduke’s trip,” Draco drawled, but he was smiling. And he had to admit, now that the final potion ingredients were in his hands, he was excited and a little nervous. Being the godson of Severus Snape taught him many things, most of all that an untested potion could be deadly. Draco knew that this potion might in all actuality harm both him and his lover, but he had to try.

He went into the room he had cleared for his brewing, looking at the extra-large cauldron bubbling with a silvery substance. Daffodil root, unicorn hair and horn, the petals of one finely-ground sunflower, lacewing flies, dried nettles, white dove feathers, thirty-eight eggs (Harry had asked him if he was making a potion or omelette), water from a running spring, and now the final two ingredients necessary to complete the potion.

If this went wrong, he’d be devastated. Or dead. Or both. If it went wrong, maybe it was better he was dead, because if it went awry and he lived, he knew of one person who would make his an Harry’s lives a living Hell. If it went right...well, that was the plan. That was what he wanted and had been working for since Christmas.

“Wait,” Harry said.

Draco sighed. “What now?”

“What if...y’know...what if this doesn’t purge the darkness from the second object? What will you do?” he asked.

Draco held his wand in his free hand and said, “What I have to.”

Harry stood behind him, holding him close as he began to final two steps of the potion, using his wan to recite the proper Latin incantation.

“ _ Esse apud vos modo in luce resurrectionis. _ ”

Plop went the first ingredient, and the silver turned slightly pinkish, swirling now faster than it had been before.

“ _ Anima perditas ad nos in nomine dilecti lumine. _ ”

Plop went the final ingredient, melting down in the bubbling potion. Harry and Draco both held their breaths to see what would happen now…

 

****

 

“They’re gone! Good bloody fuck, how could they be gone? The stone is enchanted, so maybe it moved itself: it’s possible, but where is my necklace?” Harley was shouting at the house elves in the kitchen.

She’d gone to bed once she’d been done crying the night before, rewrapping the stone in the cloth and placing her Prince family heirloom right next to her bedside as she did every night. When she had woken this morning, both had disappeared. Her engagement ring from Fred was still there. She warded her chambers and office at night so that none could enter but she...and the house elves. Unless she had been sleepwalking, it had to have been one of the elves that took it.

“One of you had to have taken it, and I demand you come forth... _ now _ !”  _ Okay, even I heard my father in my voice just now. _

They all looked shocked and scared, as usual Winky was crying, but none looked guilty. And none came forth with a confession.

Eventually, Minerva came and got her, reminding her that ghosts were impervious to any wards she might have put into place, which aroused her anger even more. If Peeves had taken them, she was sure to never see them ever again, The thought that her special gift from her father was gone made her feel worse than she already had.

She sat down to breakfast with a sigh, unwilling to deal with the noise and chatter of the students. James was glaring holes into his porridge; he had obviously gotten her notice that he should leave the Invisibility Cloak at home from now on. The kids hadn’t used it last night, but who knew how many times he had?

Albus and Scorpius were laughing and talking animatedly as they entered the Great Hall, obviously pleased with themselves despite their getting detentions with Rose. Rose was following behind them, her nose in a book.

“You okay, Harley?” Neville asked as he sat down. “You look even more gloomy than usual.”

“How observant, Longbottom,” she muttered. “Keep up your insight and I’ll resurrect your fucking toad just to poison it myself.”

Longbottom’s eyes widened. “What is it with your family and my pets? Let Trevor rest in peace!”

Harley didn’t respond, instead trying to get through the meal as quickly as possible. Some of the Muggle-borns went to special rooms McGonagall had made to worship the religion of their choice on Sundays, and this week was Harley’s turn to escort them.

After that, she went to her shop and was surprised to find Patricia there, brewing some Pepper-Up and a couple other potions. She was amazed that the girl--no longer a girl--had gone from a whiny nuisance to the closest thing she had to a friend.

“Hey, you got three new orders I can’t fill. I was going to owl them to you,” Patricia said by way of greeting.

Harley stepped over to the bulletin board and picked up the parchment. All three were from Draco and Harry. Immunity potion, usually given to newborns to prevent dragon pox and other illnesses. A hair tonic, probably for Harry, that only Harley could brew. And a list of ingredients, with a note from Draco saying he had used up his stores.

_ He used up his stores of all this? What did he do, try to make a new Elixir Of Life or something? _ Harley wondered, getting his order ready. She had the hair tonic bottled, so there was one less thing to brew.

“How’ve you been?” Patricia asked. “I was at the ball last night but had to leave: little Aileen got sick last night...hence the Pepper-Up.”

“Hope she’s better,” Harley said, barely registering her words. “You didn’t miss much.”

“No? Because I heard from a little bird that you were caught snogging Oliver Wood.”

Harley paused in her chopping and then resumed at the same pace. “And who told you that? I’m betting your cousin could not wait to gossip. ...And it was not snogging, it was one kiss. Nothing more.”

Patricia made a noncommittal noise and started bottling the Pepper-Up while Harley began the immunity potion.

“I’m merely saying it’s about time. I didn't know Fred except for that day he taught us the Jelly-Legs Jinx, but I think he would have wanted you to be happy again,” she said.

“Have you heard anything from the ad for the Potions position at Hogwarts next year?” Harley asked, changing the subject.

“Four people. One of whom made me at my worst look good,” Patricia replied. “Two of them I sent their resumes to McGonagall. She’ll probably see them today. The last one you would have verbally eviscerated despite her talent, so I didn’t bother with her.”

Harley nodded, hoping that her replacement would come at least within a mile from her standards. She wasn’t a fan of teaching, most of the students made her want to start firing hexes, but she had a talent for the job, one that even she knew few did. She’d hate to leave Hogwarts with a sub-par teacher.

McGonagall had taken interviews for the position all year, and Harley had sat in on some of them. They were horrid. The ones who were personable were dumb as rocks and would be walked on by the Slytherins and the entire Potter/Weasley clan. The smart ones has absolutely no teaching method whatsoever and Harley had to leave a few of the interviews before she lashed out. If her father had been watching from Heaven, he must have been cursing up a storm.

Hogwarts had been a home, a safe haven, for many people, especially for her family. She wanted nothing less than the best for the future students who would need that same safety net ten months out of the year.

Eventually her work was done, inventory had been sorted, and Harley left then, stopping in Dogweed and Deathcap for some flowers, before Apparating away. After yesterday, she felt compelled to visit a place she hadn’t for twenty years: the cemetery in Godric’s Hollow, where her parents reposed side-by-side.

Ignoring James’ gravestone, she stood between her mother’s and father’s markers, placing lilies on each.

_ Lily Evans Potter _

_ 20th January, 1960 - 31st October, 1981 _

_ Beloved mother, sister, and wife _

_ The last enemy that shall be conquered is death. _

_ ~*~*~ _

_ Severus Tobias Snape _

_ 9th January, 1960 - 2nd May, 1998 _

_ Beloved father, professor, and Order of Merlin, First Class _

_ Death is the next great adventure. _

Harley had thought that it was prudent to put Dumbledore’s quote on her father’s grave, because Severus had quoted the headmaster to her when she had been talking about her mother’s death.

Seeing her mother the previous night eased the pain she’d felt her entire life, the pain that had grown larger once she’d known who her mother was and the story surrounding her death. She now had proof that her parents were together, and that her father could be just as stubborn as his daughter with wanting to come back.

“ _ He’s still tied to the world, to you _ ,” Lily had said.

“Father,” Harley said, “if you can hear me, don’t be afraid to embrace the afterlife. Don’t wish to return only because of me. ...I miss you terribly, and would love nothing more than to have you here with me, but that’s not possible. Please rest, and know one day I’ll join you and Mum and Fred.”

 

****

 

The first classes after the long weekend were chaos. Harley removed so many points that Neville commented that they might as well award Hufflepuff the House Cup now, because at the rate Slytherin and Gryffindor were going, they’d both be down to zero soon.

“It’s not like they’re behaving like angels for you,” Harley commented.

“Of course not, but you’re being excessive,” Neville said.

“It’s not excessive until she threatens to poison them,” McGonagall commented with a smile. “Harley, I just received an owl from Draco. He claims to have found your perfect replacement for next year.”

“Really?” Harley said. “Where did he find his miraculous Potion Master or Mistress?”

McGonagall poured tea and said, “No idea, but he wants you to vet the person, of course. He said you can go to the manor for tea and an interview next Sunday.”

Harley scoffed. “And why can’t the he or she come here like everyone else?”

McGonagall sighed and said, “I don’t know, Harley, the letter didn’t say. But I assume it will be more comfortable for all around, if it’s a friend of the Malfoys’.”

“Tell him I will be there. And it had better not be a complete waste of my time.”

The night before she was to leave for the manor, she and McGonagall made a contract to offer immediately. She’d received another owl from Draco, stating that his candidate was a Slytherin and would be better suited to the role of Head of House instead of Millicent simply due to experience, which McGonagall made a note of. Harley also signed her contract termination pending the approval of the new Potions Master and transfer of Head of Gryffindor to Neville Longbottom.

“You will be missed, Harley,” McGonagall said. “While you sent a few kids away in tears, many students love you.”

“Well, I am not leaving unless I find the perfect replacement. So if this guy Draco’s got is subpar, you’ll have me at least another year,” she replied. Despite trying to strictly adhere to her “one year” rule, she knew she couldn’t leave the school hanging.

She went back to her rooms when the Floo suddenly roared to life, startling her.

“Hello? Harley? Are you there?” Her desk was in the corner, so anyone calling by Floo would not see her right away.

“Oliver?” she said, walking in front of the fire. No matter how long she lived in the Wizarding World, the Floo calls would always be very awkward to her. “Bloody Hell, why are you in my fireplace?”

“It’s quicker than an owl.”

Harley sighed. “What do you want, Oliver?”

“For one, to make sure you’re not mad at me, but that’s hard to tell because you always act like this. For another, to meet up. You take Sundays off, right? We can set everything straight,” he said.

“I’m going to visit my brother tomorrow. May I suggest another day?” Harley asked.

“Just ten minutes. I’ll meet you in London. Please?”

Damn it, how could someone give puppy-dog eyes across a fireplace?

“Fine. Tomorrow, noon, Leaky Cauldron.” And with that Harley poured dirt on the fireplace, effectively ending the call.

 

****

 

The Leaky Cauldron was still a dark, dingy dump, even under different proprietors. Harley got there early and spent some time in Flourish and Blott’s, thinking about her first visit there, nearly twenty-seven years ago, while Hagrid introduced her to Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. That had been one of the best days of her life, though at the time she didn’t know it.

At noon she went to the pub and ordered a firewhiskey, not usually one to drink in the afternoons, but she had a feeling that, between Oliver’s persistence and Draco’s candidate, she’d need it.

_ I should never have agreed to anything with Oliver _ , she thought.  _ I care not that Fred claimed to be all right with it: the whole thing feels terribly wrong. _

“ _ My heart love till now for sweared sight, for I never saw true beauty till this night. _ ”

Harley jumped. “Shakespeare, really?”

Oliver sat at the bar stool next to her with a smug grin on his face. “One of the brightest wizards in existence. And he let everyone believe he was a Muggle.”

“And it is a Muggle custom to quote cheesy poetry to your intended, but I had hoped wizards were above such nonsensical and pretentious actions,” Harley commented.

He shrugged, ordering a drink. “I like it. You know he was a distant cousin of mine?”

“Huh. Tell me you’re related to Poe and perhaps then I’ll be impressed.”

He chuckled. “You always were a judgy chit, weren’t you?”

She glared at him. “If that’s your version of flattery, I’d hate to hear your insults.”

He kept smiling at her, and she was torn between wondering if he was slightly mad or if she wanted to kiss him again.

“I mean it, you know,” he continued. “You’re beautiful.”

“I’ve never been one for flattery,” she replied.

Oliver scoffed. “It’s not flattery. It’s fact. I’ve had a crush on you since I was sixteen, and you barely noticed I was alive.”

She was surprised into laughter as she remembered telling Harry she paid as much attention to Oliver as she did to flobberworms. “True, and for that I apologise. ...Love makes people blind in more ways than one, and I was happy to be blinded.”

Oliver nodded. “I know. I’m sorry for what happened to Fred. Not only were we friends, but I knew how much you loved each other. I’m not half as oblivious as you might think. But that’s why I asked you to...consider me. You’ve been in mourning for too long.” He reached over and covered her hand with his. “I’ll never be Fred. And I’m okay with that. I don’t want you to pretend to feel anything you don’t feel. I just want to be able to put a smile on your face, to give you comfort and care.”

Harley stared at their joined hands, a little taken aback. 

“You know, there’s something you said to me that night in my shop, about my spark being gone,” she said quietly. “It made me wonder what my father was like before life fucked him over, if he had the same spark and drive I did but lost it. If that’s why he pushed me to live my dream, to be with the man I loved. If he saw in me what you did, and was afraid I’d wind up losing it like him.”

Oliver nodded slowly. “I didn’t know him well. Dropped Potions by the time I was in sixth year. But I can see where you’re coming from and it’s entirely possible.” He gently moved his thumb on the back of her hand in a soft pattern. “So if you’re right, if he’d want you to be happy, why not take what I’m offering?”

Harley gazed into her glass, the reddish liquid sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “That’s why I agreed to meet. I would...I’d like to give it a try. As much as it hurts, I’m hoping that soon the pain will stop.” She closed her eyes, hating the soft tears that fell.

Oliver brushed them away with fingers as light as feathers. “I promise to ease the pain as well as I can.” He kissed her lightly, all she would allow in public. Possibly all she’d ever allow.

“I have to go,” she murmured, pulling away from him. “Hogwarts business.”

He helped her up and put a few knuts and sickles on the bar to cover their drinks. “Will I see you soon?”

Harley looked at his hopeful face and wanted to laugh. She was almost forty years old, and here she was about to date for the first time in her life. She and Fred had never dated, unless you counted trips to Hogsmeade. There was the Order, summers at Spinner’s End and the Burrow, classes to take, and evil to fight. They had found and cultivated their love without any of the typical romantic conventionalities. This was going to prove to be interesting.

“Yeah, after the term ends I’ll have much more free time.” She gave him a small smile and said goodbye, Apparating outside Malfoy Manor.

She was used to Apparating outside the gates because of the Death Eater barrier around the place, and old habits died hard. She still felt the compulsion to raise her left arm in the air as she passed through the massive iron gates topped with carved snakes and walked to the front door.

She banged the serpent-headed knocker, suddenly feeling a wave of nostalgia. No reason. She’d been at the manor many, many times since Voldemort’s defeat and had not felt like this for years.  _ Come on, witches don’t get into middle age as quickly as Muggles, so why do I feel like this? Early onset menopause? _ Harley wondered as she waited for the door to open.

After a few moments, Draco opened the door, an easy smile on his face.

“Right on time!” he said, ushering her inside. “Hang up your cloak.”

“You seem awfully...eager,” Harley commented as she did as he said, removing the contract from her cloak pocket to her lightweight black robe. “Is your potential employee so wonderful he’s got you on edge, or were you and my brother just doing things I’d rather not think about?”

Draco shook his head, leading her through the house, where Harry met them in the hall, also looking like he was ready to burst.

“All right, what is going on?” Harley asked.

“You’ll see. First, I have to ask--I was told to ask--are you really dating Oliver Wood?” Harry asked.

“Someone  _ told  _ you to ask me? If it was Spinnet, she can ask me herself...if she survives the encounter without a trip to St. Mungo’s,” Harley said. “But yes, we would like to give it a try. I was reminded of a few things I’d rather not discuss now, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Right, right, we have bigger grindylows to fry, eh?” Draco said. “And uh, those things need to begin with a confession.”

Harley stepped back to look at Draco, who appeared as though he were a teenage boy sneaking around Hogwarts rather than a respected member of Wizarding society. She should have known that pairing him with her brother would lead to insanity one way or another.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“Nothing too bad. Um, you see, I sort of let a Dark object go into Hogwarts. Now, before you do a perfect imitation of your dad, let me explain. The object wasn’t dangerous in and of itself. No one could be injured or cursed from it. I let it go so I could find a way to take it and remove the Dark magic from it and restore it to...well, its former glory, I guess.”

_ What does this have to do with a prospective Potions Master? _ Harley asked herself as she watched Draco speak nervously.

“What I did was create a potion that counters a potion Harry already knew existed around this particular bit of Dark magic,” Draco continued. “I’ve been brewing it and working on it ever since you guys started your horcrux hunt in December. The potion was just finished a week ago. We would have called you here sooner if we could, but we wanted to be sure it worked and there were no problems. You see, it was never used before. I found it in one of Father’s old books.”

“I’m not sure what I’m more furious over: that you let something Dark into the school or that you attempted an unused potion without a professional’s supervision,” Harley said. “You could have blown up the entire manor! You could have killed both Harry and yourself!”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Nothing in it was combustible. Daffodils, unicorn hair and horn, a few other things. And...the Resurrection Stone.”

At that, Harley finally blew up. “Are you out of your ever-loving, rapidly diminishing, bloody minds? Harry Potter, you complete arse! You let your boyfriend steal a Deathly Hallow from my private quarters at Hogwarts to use in some unknown potion? How? Who did you get to steal it from me?”

“K-Kreacher. I had Kreacher get it, because the anti-Apparition wards don’t apply to house elves,” Harry stammered.

“How did you know I had it that quickly?” she asked.

He paled except for two red spots of embarrassment high on each cheek. “I told the kids where to find it. When I didn’t get an owl from them, I knew it had to be you who confiscated it from them.”

Harley put the heel of her hand against her head. “Potter, you’re giving me a migraine. You sent children into the fucking Forbidden Forest? You want them all dead, is that it? They were chased by dementors, you fool! Had I not been there those three kids would be soulless! Your recklessness has cost me quite a lot in my life, don’t let it cost those children their lives!”

Draco reached out and put his hands on Harley’s shoulders. “Lighten up, Snape. Everything turned out for the best, as you will see.”

“No result is worth the lives of those kids,  _ Malfoy _ ,” she said, her voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

Draco suddenly pulled her into a warm hug. “You’re nicer than you give yourself credit for. But the result really is priceless.”

Speaking of priceless….

“Why did Kreacher take my necklace but leave my engagement ring?” she asked.

“We needed it,” Harry said.

The analytical part of Harley’s brain began to work. She had never heard of a potion that required the ingredients Draco had listed, plus silver and emeralds. It really must be obscure.

“Who created the potion you made, anyway?”

“Merlin,” both men replied. “It takes the darkness out of a particular Dark object,” Draco added.

Harley’s mouth dropped. “You’re joking? You have a book that contains secret work of Merlin and you never even thought to show me? Draco, I’ll kill you!”

“You can have it now. I have no need of it anymore,” Draco said. “But the potion I made can’t ever be made again: the Stone dissolved in there. So it was a one-time deal.”

“But what was worth the Resurrection Stone?” she asked. “What was worth the destruction of a Deathly Hallow?”

A throat clearing in the direction of the library startled Harley, who turned to see who was eavesdropping. She had entirely forgotten about the Potions candidate, who must have heard everything and probably thought all three of them were mad.

A shadow loomed in the distance, quietly observing. A voice said, “I believe they think that  _ I _ was worth it.”

And Harley fainted.

 

****

 

“Hey, she moved. I think she’s coming to!”  _ Draco. _

“Yeah, probably.”  _ Harry. _

“Give her this. And you need to heal the bump on her head until I get my wand. I don’t want to risk wandless magic so soon...not on an injury.”  _ No. Not possible. This is a delirium. I never woke up. I’m still in bed at Hogwarts. _

Her dreams were often cruel, feeling so much like reality and leaving her to wake up and realise they had been just that: dreams. And she’d be miserable all day, knowing that her happiness was six feet under with Severus and Fred. Indeed, she was already crying a bit, feeling tears fall down the sides of her face, towards her ears. She was laying down, it seemed on a floor.

“She’s crying!” Harry again, blissfully pointing out the obvious.

She heard the rustling of robes and felt her head being lifted with gentle hands and a potion bottle being put to her lips. Pepper-Up. The stuff tasted dreadful but she swallowed it. Fainting, if that’s what she’d done and this wasn’t all in her mind, required a dose of the potion.

“ _ Plaga reparo _ .” That was Draco, and the dull pounding she had felt in her head went away, leaving her with even more of a sense of unreality.

A cool hand touched the spot Draco just healed. “Thank you.” Her hair was brushed from her face as if she was four instead of nearly forty. “Harley? Are you with us?”

“Harley?” Harry again. “Hey, come on, wake up.”

She groaned. “Wake me, Potter, and I’ll hex you back to Grimmauld Place.”

“Well, you can’t stay on the floor forever,” Draco pointed out.

“Yes I can.”

“Well,  _ I’m  _ fifty-eight and I cannot,” the third voice pointed out. “And you are partially in my lap.”

_ This isn’t real. There’s no way in...wait. _ Her inner dialogue was stilting.  _ There  _ is  _ a way. Just because his name wasn’t listed doesn’t mean that he… _ “Please don’t let this be a dream,” she said, her voice breaking. “Because this is too real and I can’t…”

The hand was in her hair again, stroking it and making her feel like the little girl she never was.

“It’s real. These two were insane, completely out of line with what they did. What you said earlier is only a fraction of the lecture I gave them. Come on, little girl, open your eyes.” She was lifted into a sitting position.

Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes, expecting Harry and Draco to be staring at her as if she was insane. What she saw was a pair of black eyes that matched her own, with the exception of makeup and addition of age lines.

“See? I am as real as you are,” Severus Snape said, a soft smile touching his lips.

Harley was speechless, looking into the face she had not seen except in memories and dreams for so long. He had aged, now appearing in his late fifties instead of thirties, with hair mostly silver as opposed to ink black, but there was no mistaking him as being there, and very real. Nevertheless, she reached her hand out and placed it gingerly on the side of his face, half expecting him to vanish at her touch. Instead she felt his skin, warmed with life. The last time she had touched his face, his skin had been cold and waxy in death.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped out, her tears resuming but for an entirely different reason. Her mind would finish putting the pieces together soon. Right then, all she could do was fling herself into her father’s arms and bury her face in his neck.

He held onto her tightly, each second making her know that this was reality. They stayed like that for a few minutes or hours, Harley had no idea. All she knew was that her father was back, alive again, and she was never going to let go.

“You know, little girl, the Malfoys’ floor is not exactly my idea of comfort,” Severus said. He moved away from her and brushed the tears from her face, doing nothing about his own.

Harley couldn’t believe he had let himself be seen weak and in tears by Harry Potter again. Smiling a little, she took out her wand and took his tears away like he had so many times for her.

Severus stood and held a hand out to help her up, where she promptly grabbed him in another hug, foregoing any pretense she had ever kept up. Now was no time for her emotional shields.

“I need to know everything,” she said once she’d let him go. “Including why you never told me your wedding present to me was a horcrux.” Turning, she faced Draco, “And you, my dear friend, are lucky I’ve not hexed your privates off yet.”

“Believe me, I know,” Draco said, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Sit down, Harry will have Kreacher bring tea.”

“Kreacher’s moved in here, has he?” Harley glanced at her brother.

“When I’m here, he is,” Harry replied, calling for the elf.

“It was about time,” Severus commented, sitting down in an armchair. “You two would dance around each other and I felt like I was watching an inept ballet.”

Harley was more composed as she sat nearest her father in the darkened library and took the teacup from the ugly little elf who still seemed to dislike her.

“I suppose my explanation would be appreciated,” Severus began. “I am sure Lucius told you what sort of reaction the idea of making a horcrux was met with.”

“Apprehension and fear,” Harley said. “But those who refused were killed.”

Severus nodded. “Yes, before our very eyes. We were called Death Eaters for a reason: we all feared yet brought death. I am have made no secret that the things I did as a young man were vile and reprehensible, and I own them all. They are the reason I struggled to keep my identity from you, little girl, and why I did not stay with Lily.

“I was always a little weak when it came to killing Muggles. Despite the fact that I still think too many Muggles knowing about us could be our demise, I wanted secrecy, not mass murder. When the horcrux demand was made by the Dark Lord, I went to a Muggle hospital and killed someone in their intensive care unit. He was not long for this life anyway, and a little push of  _ Legilimens  _ told me he welcomed death. He was the first and only Muggle I ever killed with my own hand.

“My mother’s pendant was used because it was all I had of my pureblood heritage. She’d recently died, and it was more sentimental than strategic. I had no idea I’d ever have anyone to pass it down to.” He looked at Harley and smiled a little.

“Why did you not tell me, though?” Harley asked. “When you knew I’d be receiving it, why not let me know?”

“Because I had no idea one could come back from a horcrux without using Dark magic. I know you, little girl: you would have done anything to bring me back if you’d known, and I vowed when you were fourteen to never let you go Dark,” he replied. “I keep my promises.”

“That’s why your spirit couldn’t come through the Stone, right?” Harley asked.

He nodded. “Yes, because too much of my soul was already here.”

“And you knew you weren’t going to survive, and you didn’t tell me that, either,” she pointed out.

“True, because I love you, and I didn’t want that on your head. You needed hope to fight the Dark, not more darkness.”

She turned to Draco. “Your turn.”

The blond squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “When I saw your father’s name listed, I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. And I knew that there had to be some way, something no one knew about, to bring someone back from a horcrux without needing blood, bone, and flesh. So I made a Duplicate of the list and simply erased his name.”

_ Clever _ , Harley thought. “And if I had asked you, while under Veritaserum, if this was everyone, what would you have done?”

He shrugged. “Told you. I’d have no choice, would I? Thankfully, you never did. I would have told you, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up only to be let down.”

“We aren’t stupid, Harley, just like he said,” Harry gestured to Severus. “You would have gone Dark to get him back. And we wouldn’t have that.”

Harley was touched by the protectiveness shown to her. Especially by a brother she had shunned for most of their lives.

She sat back in the chair, holding Severus’ hand in hers. “I can’t believe this is real. ...And what about Mum? You had to leave her again.”

“Not forever. Now I know I will see her again. Right now my place is here, with you.” Her father squeezed her hand tightly. “Lily was rooting for them to finish the potion, to return me to you. She gave me a warning when I left: ‘You belong with our daughter, Sev, and don’t you dare leave her again anytime soon’.”

Harley chuckled. That sounded quite like her mother.

Draco cleared his throat. “Now, I did call you here about the Potions position at Hogwarts. Is this not a suitable replacement?”

Harley fired a hex at him, which he easily deflected. “You’re an arse, Malfoy...but I’ll be forever grateful to you.” She glanced over at Harry. “To you both for saving a piece of me I thought had died long ago.”


	51. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus' return to the Wizarding World.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied: I had one more chapter in me before the epilogue. Enjoy!

If someone had come into the room and cast Crucio on her, Harley wouldn’t have even felt it, let alone cared. Severus was alive! There were no words to describe her immense relief and joy in that moment, and she refused to leave his side.

All afternoon the two of them spent talking in the Malfoys’ parlor, left alone by Harry and Draco for the most part. Both men knew that the two of them had quite a bit to catch up on. Despite his watching over her, there were still things Severus didn’t know and wanted to have elaborated upon.

Her shop, her advancements in medicine, her lack of social life (which he scolded her on, because it reminded him too much of himself after Lily’s passing), her position at Hogwarts, and of course her nephews and niece.

“They’re good kids...once you get past James having Harry’s attitude and none of his empathy,” Harley said. “Rose, Fred, and Scorpius, too.” She smiled and added, “And I’m sure you know about Albus.”

At that a soft flush suffused her father’s face. “Yes, I saw. At first I was livid, and then I gradually came to understand Potter’s line of thinking. It was...flattering. If I’d had a heart, it would have been warmed.”

“And Albus looks up to you...well, to the memory of you. He’s barely twelve and already he’s brilliant at Potions. I’ve been tutoring him, telling him stories of you in between lessons,” Harley said. “He talks to your portrait quite often, though I admit at times I wanted to break the damned thing.”

He reached over and again took her hand in his. “There’s no need for that now. With me alive, it will be still and silent until my next death.”

“Good. I don't want to see that thing again for at least fifty more years.” And with wizards’ longer lifespan, that was an entirely valid expectation.

Before Severus could respond, the fireplace roared to life. The chairs weren’t in its direct line of sight, but they could see the face there well enough: Minerva McGonagall.

“Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy, are you there? I’m looking for Professor Snape, she’s not returned yet and I am beginning to be concerned,” she called.

Severus squeezed his daughter’s hand as the Headmistress said “Professor Snape” while meaning her.

“I’m here, Minerva,” Harley replied. “I supposed I lost track of time.”

“Quite all right. Well, how was the new Potions candidate? Everything Mr. Malfoy said and more?”

Harley couldn’t help the smile that came on her face. She turned to her father and mouthed, “Do you want to teach again?”

He nodded, no hesitation.

“He’s better than anyone had any right to expect. I’ll be bringing him by this evening,” Harley said. “We’ve just got one stop to make first.”

“All right. This is quite a relief. I know you wanted to go back to your shop full-time, and I couldn’t stand the thought of another Slughorn. I’ll be waiting for your arrival.” With that, the fire died down to its normal height.

“What a surprise you’ll be,” Harley said.

The boys chose that moment to return to the room.

“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to give old McGonagall heart failure by showing up with a formerly dead person?” Draco asked.

Harry elbowed him in the ribs. “That’s not nice! It could actually happen!”

“You underestimate Minerva,” Severus said. “She endured my generation,  _ your  _ generation...and now another generation that combined Potters, Weasleys, and Grangers. If she can handle that, I am sure my arrival won’t break her constitution.” He turned to Harley. “And what is the stop we need to make?”

“Spinner’s End. I assume you’re going to need your wand, and I couldn’t bare burying it with you,” Harley replied. “It’s still at home, on the mantle.”

They both stood up and Harley took Draco’s hands in hers. “You’ve no idea what a gift you’ve given me.”

Draco removed his hands from hers and hugged her tightly. “Yes, I do. Trust me, I missed my godfather. I got to have all the things you didn’t, because I grew up with him. I wanted you to be able to have the rest of your life with your dad.”

Severus walked to Draco and took his godson’s hand. “I always knew you’d grow to be a much better man than Lucius ever was.” He then turned to Harry, who looked a little pale. Harley and Draco watched with interest, wondering what the Hell was going to happen between the two men who lived for years despising each other.

The former Potions Master held his hand out and said, “Thank you, Harry.” Not ‘Potter’. “For proving me wrong. You are...more like your mother than I ever realised.”

Harry took his hand and said, “I was wrong about you, but I know that I had to be. What you did for Mum...for all of us...I am forever in your debt. All of Wizarding Britain is.”

He stepped over to Draco and the blond put his arm around his shoulders. “The world was poorer without its modern hero in it,” Draco added. “I expect you’ll both be frequent visitors here, once Harry and I plan to entertain.”

“More Malfoy dinner parties? Did I not endure enough of them in my day?” Severus asked, but even he couldn’t help a smile. The Dark had been purged from more than just the horcrux: it seemed it had been removed from Severus’ very soul. Harley felt that this was the man she was supposed to have known, the man he would have been much sooner had things with Lily worked out differently.

“Can we use your Floo?” Harley asked.

“Yeah. Powder’s in the third jar to the right,” Draco replied.

Severus used it first, and when Harley slipped out of the fireplace at Spinner’s End to see him brushing off his cloak and gazing around the darkened room, she had to stop to be sure this was real. Those dreams she had snuck up on her. She had seen her father many times in them, doing just this in the living room of their home. And every time she’d woken up just a little more broken than she had been the night before.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been home,” Severus said, turning to run his hand along the mantle, where his wand sat on a little stand beside beloved photographs.

“It hasn’t felt like home since you passed,” Harley admitted.

Severus picked up his wand and Harley felt the jolt of magic that went through the room: it felt like it was in her own soul.

“Did you know I found out that our wands are connected?” he asked her. “Old Ollivander told me after he died: the wood and hairs were from the same tree and unicorn. Only one was supposed to be made, but they made two because the first one’s size was wrong--it was too small by half an inch.”

“I thought it was just coincidence,” Harley said, recalling her fifth year when Neville Longbottom’s fall had caused her and her father to accidentally switch wands. “Our power’s so similar that we were destined for these wands.”

Severus gave his wand a wave and the dust moved from the furniture, the fireplace roared to life, and the cold little house once again seemed like home for Harley. “Easier to Floo to Hogwarts if the fire’s lit here,” he told her. “It’ll die itself out.”

While she knew she needed to regain control of her emotions, and she would, right then she had to wrap her arms around her father’s neck one more time, making up for the time they’d lost.

Once she disentangled herself, she Floo called McGonagall to let her know she would be arriving momentarily and both she and Severus arrived, sooty and disoriented.

The former Potions Master looked around his former office with an appreciative smile. Harley saw the nostalgia in his eyes. With a casual flick of his wand, he banished the portrait which was now still, sending it back to wherever it had come from.

“I wonder when Minerva will notice the portrait in her office has been empty for too long, since my likeness stayed trapped in this frame,” Severus said. “I do suppose I’ll need to not be seen by anyone I knew until I can see her.” He raised his wand and Harley assumed he was about to cast a Disillusionment spell but she stopped him.

“I think this will work much better,” she said, reaching into a Charmed drawer in her desk and pulling out a folded piece of fabric. “I confiscated it from James Sirius a few days ago.”

Severus chuckled. “The Invisibility Cloak. Well, I’ll be damned if I don’t feel thirty-three again, sneaking with it to try and arrest Sirius Black.”

Harley chuckled lightly. “Are you sure Draco isn’t right and we’re going to kill old McGonagall?”

Her father gave her a look before disappearing underneath Ignotus Peverell’s Cloak. “I will drop the Cloak before we knock on her door, little girl.”

Harley kept glancing at her side as she walked, hoping that he would reappear and this wasn't how she’d find out that she was completely, barking mad and had hallucinated the whole thing.

Harley gave the password to the statue guarding Minerva’s entrance and it let her and Severus in. While they walked up the stairs, he dropped the cloak and banished it back to the Potions office. Since it was Sunday evening, the school was fairly quiet, having had dinner early. Mostly, students were studying for final exams.

“Harley,” Minerva called, “you had me worried there for a moment. I--” She turned around from looking at the sunset over the gorgeous Scottish countryside to regard Harley when she caught sight of the black-clad man back from the dead. Her eyes widened behind her spectacles and her mouth opened and closed like a fish, no sound emitting.

“I do suppose you are owed an explanation, Minerva,” Severus said. “The Cliff’s Notes are I was once forced to make a horcrux, the Malfoy heir found a non-evil way to bring me back, and here I stand.”

Still, the Headmistress said nothing.

“You’re allowed to faint, you know,” Harley said. “I did.”

But the Headmistress was made of stronger stuff than Harley thought and she straightened up and walked closer to Severus. “This isn’t possible.”

“It is. Call my brother if you don’t believe what’s in front of your eyes,” Harley said. “He helped Draco put the potion together these past six months.”

“I don’t even know where to begin!” McGonagall said.

“It’s not as long a story as you might think. But you see, this is the perfect Potions Master,” Harley said with a smirk. She turned to her father. “While you fill her in, I’d like to bring Albus here, for him to meet you.”

Severus nodded. “I’d like that.”

Harley slipped out of the Headmistress’ office and went down to the other side of the castle, to the Gryffindor tower. This old path she tread brought a myriad of feelings to her. No longer was she an uncertain child, and now it suddenly seemed like this future--her present--was the real deal, not some hazy dream filled with loss.

She wished for Fred, she did. But this was a lost piece of her soul that had been found and it made her feel real again, for the first time in decades.

She knocked on the portrait before giving the password. The common room was half full when she poked her head in. Rose and Albus were together, studying. Fred and James were playing catch with a fake snitch bought at WWW.

“Everything okay, Professor?” Rose asked.

“Yes. I’m here for two reasons. Yours, Albus’, and Scorpius’ detentions with me are cancelled. Albus, if you could come with me, please.”

The boy’s face went pale. “Did I do something else wrong?”

“Not at all. There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Come, please. Rose, tell Scorpius about the detention removal when you see him.”

Albus closed his book and got up, eyeing his aunt warily. She’d never pulled anyone out of the common room before if they weren’t in trouble.

They walked in silence until they got to the doorway to McGonagall’s rooms and Harley stopped before giving the password. “Albus, do you know what a horcrux is?”

He nodded. “Teddy told me. They learnt that his last year here. It’s when a Dark wizard kills someone and puts their soul into some object. Like, they can’t die that way.”

“Very good. Now, Draco found a way to bring someone back from a horcrux that doesn’t use Dark magic. Which means no Darkness remains in the person, unlike with Voldemort. Are you following me so far?”

He nodded, green eyes wide.

“The person I want you to meet came back from a horcrux.”

“So...they were dead? Kinda?”

She nodded.

“Cool!”

“Not quite the word I’d use but, yes.” Harley smiled a little. She gave the password and led the boy up the stairs and knocked on the door. “All good in here?”

Minerva was wiping her eyes furtively as she sat behind her desk and nodded. Severus was still standing, seemingly amused at the stern Headmistress’ reaction.

Harley led Albus into the room, where he immediately saw Severus and did a double take. Severus, seeing the boy with the green eyes for the first time, stared back.

“Albus Severus, I’d like you to meet your namesake: my father, Severus Snape,” Harley said quietly.

“Hello, Albus,” Severus said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and to know such a promising young man shares my name.”

Harley watched in shock as the little boy walked right up to a man who terrified  _ adults _ , let alone children, and wrapped his arms around his waist. After a moment Severus hugged him back and she held back tears that threatened to fall.

Albus looked up at the former professor and said, “Welcome home, Severus.”


	52. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Here we are. Fourteen months later, we have reached the end of Harley's story. I feel teary as I type this, is that weird? Thank you all for sticking with me and with this story for so long.  
> I wanted to post this early because it's Father's Day in America and I thought it fitting to post the finale of a story about a father and daughter today.  
> Again, thank you all. I hope you enjoy MY version of the dreaded Epilogue.

One year later…

 

“You’re wearing black. Why am I not surprised?” Harry laughed when he and Draco entered Harley’s room.

“The day I wear white is the day you can snap my wand and send me to St. Mungo’s,” she replied, but she wasn’t really into the banter. She was so nervous, her butterflies had butterflies in  _ their  _ stomachs.

“You look stunning,” Draco commented, giving her a quick hug. “All ready?”

“No. This was a mistake. You should go and tell him--”

“They’ll tell him nothing,” Hermione said calmly, adjusting the delicate plait she had made in Harley’s greasy black hair. Using magic, she weaved small white rosebuds through it.

Harley looked at the bouquet of lilies that lay next to her and wanted to vomit. This was wrong. It didn’t matter what Fred had told her, it was still wrong.

“Fred would be happy, you know,” Harry said. “When you were happy, he was happy. Period.”

She ran her hand over the plait that Hermione had just perfected and sighed, “How’s George doing?”

“He’s stuck listening to Oliver babble nervously. How do you think he is?” Harry replied. “Draco and I should get back in there, we just wanted to stop in and wish you the best personally.”

He held his arms out and Harley accepted his hug, though she was too numb to feel it. Her base instinct was to Apparate out of there, but she knew she wouldn’t. It was the final piece of the puzzle of her life, and she needed to put it into place in order to fully move on from the past. It was what both Fred and Lily had said they wanted for her, and who was she to deny them?

Draco gave her another hug and he and Harry both went back to calm the apparently worried Oliver when Severus stepped into the doorway, knocking lightly to alert the ladies to his presence.

Molly had just finished sewing some lace that had come undone at the bottom of Harley’s dress and she stood up, a needle in her mouth. “Severus, doesn’t she look lovely?” she asked, gesturing for Harley to stand up and show off her ridiculously expensive dress robes.

Harley felt herself blush, unused to being the centre of attention. Anyone looking at Severus might think how cold he was that his usual expression didn’t change as he looked at his only child in her wedding gown, but Harley saw the telltale softening of his eyes when he looked at her.

“Molly, Arthur says he’s ready for everyone,” Severus said, walking into the room. “What is it Muggles say? Showtime?” Harley nodded.

Hermione, Ginny, and Luna squealed, as Hermione grabbed little Lily Luna and Lavender’s hands and said, “Got your basket?”

“Yes, Aunt Hermione.” Lily Luna went up to Harley and hugged her around her waist. “Good luck!”

“I’ve got mine.” Lavender smiled over at Harley. “Dad’s really happy, you know. Even if he is scared.”

The ladies exited the room that had once belonged to Ginny (who had since forgiven Harry for the reason behind the divorce and was still as big a part of the group as she always had been), leaving Harley and Severus alone for a moment. Harley thought about the moment that brought her here.

_ Oliver had proposed at the Christmas party held at Grimmauld place, and Harley had been too surprised to do anything but agree. Immediately, Molly pulled her aside. _

_ “I want you to have the wedding at the Burrow, just like we were planning,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. _

_ “Molly...no. I couldn’t…” Harley trailed off, looking down at the new ring on her finger and the one she wore around her throat. _

_ Molly took her hands and said, “You’ll always be family, and everyone has gotten married here. So you will, too. ...It’s what Fred would have wanted.” _

Severus cleared his throat, taking Harley from her reverie. He reached down onto the vanity and picked up the black lace veil, fastening it on his daughter’s head, letting the lace fall down her back, mingling with the cloak on the dress. Neither of them spoke for a moment as he held her at arm’s length.

Severus’ life had changed and advanced since his return from the horcrux. While he returned to his post as Potions Master the previous year, he was now ready to take Minerva’s place as Headmaster of Hogwarts after the witch retired. Harley was going back to teach Potions in his place, once again. It seemed they would always be connected by the school.

“My beautiful little girl, all grown up,” he murmured, as if she were twenty instead of forty. “How like your mother you still are.”

Harley hugged him tightly and would have stayed that way had the music not begun to swell outside.

“I am so glad I’m here to see this moment,” Severus said into her hair.

“I promised you I wouldn’t get married unless my father was there to walk me down the aisle,” Harley reminded him, recalling that long ago conversation.

He chuckled. “That you did, little girl. Come on.” He linked his arm through hers. “It is time to begin the rest of your life.”

They walked out into the backyard, where their guests had gathered beneath red and gold tents (Harley hated white and refused to have white decorations. Gryffindor colours were all that she’d concede to if Oliver refused to have black and silver). Hermione, Ginny, and Luna (all in matching red dresses with gold filigree) had just finished walking over the flower petals Lily Luna and Lavender had sprinkled along a red carpet that led from the back door of the Burrow to an altar where Arthur waited to perform the ceremony.

Oliver was dressed in the finest dress robes, and at his side stood George, serving as best man. Harley felt her heart stutter at the sight, knowing that George should have been in this position twenty years ago, supporting his twin in Oliver’s place.

“Steady,” Severus whispered in her ear. “You’re still a Snape, little girl. We don’t falter when we are at the final stretch.”

Harley nodded and they continued walking until she was at the altar. Her father squeezed her arm and placed a soft kiss to her forehead before sitting down in the front row, next to Harry and Draco. She turned to face her quite soon-to-be husband, who hadn't stopped smiling since she appeared in the doorway.

He took her hands and she wondered which one of them was trembling. She glanced behind him to George, who smiled at her even though she saw the haunted look in his eyes. Fred would be a connection between them forever, and she knew this was as hard for him as it was for her.

But as Oliver brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed them, Harley knew she was making the right decision. It wouldn’t replace or fill the hole in her heart and never would, but Oliver had helped it hurt so much less, and he made her smile more than anyone had in twenty years. It wasn’t the intense, pure, encompassing love she felt for Fred and that was okay. That love was for Fred and Fred alone. This was softer, sweeter, and exactly what she needed.

While she’d had nightmares about running away, in real life she was able to stand before Arthur and everyone she ever knew and say “I do” without hesitation.

 

****

 

“It’s time for the traditional father-daughter dance,” their volunteer DJ, Lee Jordan, announced at the reception. Harley had no idea wizards copied that Muggle tradition as Severus stood before her to help her onto the dancefloor. She’d been dancing with Oliver all night and had sat down for one song to cast a cooling spell on her pained toes.

The night was warm and bright, lit by a steady stream of WWW fireworks and a beautiful full moon, and they had removed the canopies to revel in the beauty of the night. Her father led her to the middle of the room as the music started and more and more families came to join them.

“Are you happy, little girl?” he asked her quietly.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Yes, I am.”

Severus gave her a knowing smile. “And when did you plan on telling everyone your good news?” He arched an eyebrow and the hand on her waist slipped to her stomach.

Harley let out a gasp. “You used Legilimency on your own daughter? I only found out yesterday: no one knows yet, not even Oliver.”

He laughed. “Don’t be silly, you’re too good at Occlumency for me to even think about trying to see inside your mind. You’re my daughter, it’s my job to know these things. Congratulations, Harley.”

She hugged him tightly. “Thank you.”

“Have any names picked out?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Asphodel Eileen or Severus Frederick. There can’t ever be too many yous in the world, right?”

He chuckled as they continued their dance. “I think there are some people who might disagree with that statement.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and he hugged her tightly while she glanced around the yard. Harry was dancing with Lily Luna, Ron with Rose, George with his daughter Roxanne, Arthur with Ginny, and her eyes met Oliver’s across the grass, as he danced with Lavender.

He smiled at her and her new stepdaughter gave a happy little wave, their old animosity all but forgotten. Alicia might have hurt Harley, but her daughter didn't deserve to be punished for the sins of the mother.

Draco was chatting with Hermione at a table, Scorpius and Albus were watching how Lee did the spell to amplify the music, and James was trying desperately to pick up the daughter of one of Oliver’s friends while Fred egged him on.

She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh. All was not perfect, and it never would be, but for the first time in a long time, all was well.

 

**FIN.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!  
> I'll be starting an AU, slow-burn Snamione fic soon, so stay tuned to my page.  
> Plus, I started writing a version of this story WITHOUT the fan fiction element. So if anything ever becomes of it, you all will be the first to know!  
> xoxo Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I will be updating this once a week!


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